#fwb!harry styles

[1800titz]

HI FRIENDS. WOOOOOOOOOOO. Camprry. Aimed for 5K or less and managed to get wordy again. Reader insert and basically pure smut. This one was supposed to be vanilla with some praise kink (and exhibitionism if you SQUINT since it’s in a tent) but….. hahahahaha….. WEEEELLLLLLL.

CONTENT WARNINGS: oral sex, face fucking, exhibitionism-ish if you squint, choking-ish if you squint, light dom/sub, praise kink, daddy kink, intercourse

WC: 7.5K (whoops)

There is nothing remotely sexy about a camping trip. 

In fact, Y/N thinks that if she were to deduce a list of words upon first thought when it came to camping, sexy would be the furthest one from qualifying. 

There’s nothing sexy about reverting to caveman-ism, sleeping on the ground, sheathed by some paper-thin layer of nylon and polyester and plastic support beams. There’s nothing sexy about pit stains from the lack of air conditioning or its antithetical twin sister, the bumps that rise over chilly skin and trembling bones without the luxury of an electric heater. There’s nothing innately erotic about kindling fire like electricity doesn’t exist, and cooking hot dogs on skewers over the flame, and perpetually swatting at insects that incessantly stick to shins and calves like the flesh there is coated in sugar. 

There is something sexy, though, when it comes to the way Harry’s arms work as he pitches a tent, bi’s and tri’s intermingling in an alluring duet, pumping and settling with each motion. The sleeves of his tee ride up when he raises the limbs, and sunlight catches shadow in ridge and sinew of muscle. There’s something sexy in the way his back ripples, in the way that thin fabric does nothing to cover what she imagines — no, what she’s well aware lies underneath. The same traps and lats she’s scraped her nails over and dug into. The same shoulders she’s sunk her teeth into to bridle cries of bliss. 

There’s something hot about the cinch in his brow when he works, something alluring in the curl at the plush of his mouth when he turns his head and beams lopsidedly at something that their friend has said, too low for Y/N to catch. There’s something sexy in the way that his eyes skim her frame when she’s sitting in a fold-out chair with sunglasses. When his eyes glide over his shoulder. It’s in the most subtle way. There’s something sexy in the way he tears that gaze away. 

There’s something sexy in the way that no one around them knows she spends nights bouncing on his cock. 

This lustrous affair — this sneaky fling. This filthy, dirty secret that only the two of them share, slinking and sidling through the shadows. 

Really, it’s nothing more than a raunchy circumstance of friends-with-benefits, only kept on the down-low to evade prying questions from friends and the sickly confrontation of …feelings. Because it’d be easy to admit they’re fucking, that they’ve been hooking up for months after an impromptu, late night of drinking. But then it’s sort of cementing, right? At least, in a way. 

There’s a status that floats about when you confess you’re sleeping with somebody — when you admit that you’ve entangled them into your routine beyond one mishap of sex. In the eyes of your friends, admitting that you’ve upkept a sex buddy through the roll of the seasons is, like. Well, it’s basically admitting some form of something sentimental. 

They’re just fucking. They’re just friends that fuck. And the way that nobody around them has any sort of suspicion that he’ll most likely be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night for that... 

That’s sexy, the young woman thinks. 

They’re coiled around the campfire once the sun has ducked out and simmered off behind the trees, and Y/N thinks about it. She watches the shape of his features glow beyond the crackle of the flame, and she thinks about the way his nose bumps over her clit when he licks into her. She watches his mouth move when he talks, a muted strawberry that’s dimmed in the night, and she thinks about the cushion of it pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flesh. She’s in his sweatshirt, because she had to borrow one, and it smells like him. She’s coated in it — his scent. Warm, pleasant musk and remnants of tantalizing cologne. It reminds her of the way the same sweatshirt had been discarded and draped over the foot of her bed haphazardly one night, as he kneed his way onto the mattress and clambered over her, fingertips exploring and tongue trailing. It reminds her of the way he smells when he brushes past her in the company of others, just solid weight and warmth. He does it nonchalantly, but the green of his eyes is knowing and flirtatious. That’s when the same scent teases her senses. It reminds her of the way he smells when he’s up close and personal, when he’s rocking against her and groaning softly into the nook between her shoulder and her neck. 

She stares at his hands — the way they lay over the armrests of his fold-out, the way lengthy digits adorned with chunky rings cradle a can of beer. She imagines the same fingers wrapped over her throat, squeezing lightly, in that way that he does. 

Y/N isn’t panting into the chill of the air. The white of her exhales just surface …quicker. His hands, and his smell, and his mouth are entirely irrelevant to the matter. 

By the time they all retire to their respective tents, the young woman is pleased to get a breather from his hands and his …ludicrously plush, smiley mouth. At least in a public circumstance, so she can’t be caught fawning over his mannerisms from a distance. The smell …she can’t escape that. In all honesty, it should be shameful, basking in the scent of a sweatshirt. Instead, she coils up in it under the covers.

She’s turned on her side with gritty rock coursing through wire, chords of guitar and drums rippling out from the little speakers in her ears, entirely engrossed as she scrolls through what little apps can manage access without a durable station of wifi. 

Y/N nearly squeals when an arm slinks over her chest, when a palm nudges over her mouth. And then another hand is plucking at one of the earbuds, giving her leeway into the crinkle of the sleeping bag, crickets, and the sound of bated breaths behind her. 

A low baritone, hushed and teasing against the same ear where the earbud’s been removed, “Easy, baby.” 

The gentle murmur that his lips shape does, frankly, little to soothe the hammer of her heart. In fact, if anything, the muscle soars in pace behind bone with the way cushiony pink grazes her jaw, the way his warm weight presses up behind her. 

“Easy.” 

She’d sit up and turn over her shoulder if she had the opportunity, but the same inky, muscly arm she’d admired hours earlier cradles over, preventing the motion. Harry can tell too, evidently, based on his soft snicker. He’s pleased from the way her head juts to steal a peer back. He’s pleased when she doesn’t succeed.

Instead of letting up, he takes the same earbud he’d pulled out and presses it into his own ear so that they’re sharing the set, crooning, “What are you listening to? Hm?” 

He sponges another kiss to the side of her throat, a stray tendril flopping over his forehead. Y/N knows that he’s listening to it, too, then. She knows from the playful, little nudge of his head with the rhythm, from the way the cord of the earbuds grows taut, from the sound of mirth he muzzles to her skin when he drives his mouth over the side of her neck. The young woman wriggles her arm, just enough for his grip to loosen, and then uses the opportunity to raise her head to take her own earbud out. The motion jostles Harry from the nook he’s seemingly made homage in, and he nips at her earlobe in protest. Anyways, the whole thing sends a chill wracking down her shoulders. 

When he lets up, Y/N twists in his grasp to her back. The earbuds splay over her chest, his own discarded, too. There’s still music seeping softly. She blinks, gaze tracing over his features, basked in shadow and soft amusement. 

“Hey,” she croaks, her voice catching on a crack with the effort to keep quiet. 

And Harry drags a thumb down her stomach, fingers meddling where the fabric of her (no, his) hoodie has rucked up. The ticklish sensation makes her shift a little. His mouth quirks, and he smooths over the same spot again. 

“Hey, you.” 

Her lips part and her tummy jolts when he slips the chilly pad of his thumb back over the line he’d run for a third time. She wants to bring her own hand up and trace the contours of his cocky mouth with her fingertips. It shapes the words, like baritone bathed in honey, “Ticklish?” 

When he brushes over a fourth time, her arm twitches, and her hand shoots for his wrist, squeezing lightly. Corners of muted pink spring up, dimples scoring softly. 

“Yes,” she gripes in a whisper, but the gripe doesn’t come out very gripey at all. Instead, it’s sort of small — that’s on account of his warm weight shifting onto her. Which is a new development, and it’s one that stirs something familiar and warm below the sleeping bag she’s nestled into, half-zipped and mostly just thrown over. 

His sturdy thigh slips in the empty gap between her own, and Harry ducks his head, the dimples deepening and the glint of white teeth escaping through the part of his lips. And then he dips lower until his face is nearly tucked into her hair. 

“I missed you,” his admission is soft-spoken. It’d be sort of tender if it didn’t come out so …hungry. 

Y/N takes in a little, shuddery breath. The same hand that's settled over her hipbone comes up to brush hair away from her throat, and a mouth stipples kisses over her pulse. His voice is a raspy, desirous tease, “Did you miss me?” 

Christ. She thinks that maybe if he were telepathic and had even a brief glimpse into the filthy things that’d cycled behind her skull for the duration of the day, then he’d only be more smug. 

That’s dangerous. 

She’s glad he isn’t. 

The young woman hums — an apathetic sound that feigns contemplation, like his touch doesn’t light every nerve ending in her system on fire, like she hasn’t spent hours staring at his arms, his mouth, his hands. Like she hasn’t been picturing expanses of muscle and skin hidden under his tee, imagining her tongue tracing through the vales of his v-line and her fingertips following the trail of hair below his belly button, slipping lower and lower…

“No?” Harry murmurs, lips bumping wetly over her flesh. What follows is a gentle exhale, and then his mouth is sponging another open-mouthed kiss, and his tongue brushes warmth against her, like he’s petting with it over her pulse. He caresses all the way back to her ear. Something dirty and thrilling slinks down the knobs of her spine when he mumbles, unconvinced, “I think you’re lying to me, little miss.” 

Her breath stutters. 

“I think,” Harry muses, fingers dipping beneath the shroud of the sleeping bag and smoothing back over her waist testingly, “that if I had a look right now, you’d be a drippy mess.”

Her throat bobs on a swallow. Petulantly, and so obviously feigning, Y/N tips her chin back and tells him, “…Not at all.”

Instead of smoothing tips of digits back over the naked, little expanse of skin again, they venture lower, teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I think your sweet, little pussy would tell me otherwise, wouldn’t it, pet?” 

Another deep breath rolls her chest under the cushioned sheet of fabric when fingertips dwell in. Just centimeters, practically. They retreat. Harry presses another kiss just below her ear. 

“Hm? It’s been so empty all day long. Achy, I bet.” Chills rise awake all over when he murmurs, purely condescending pity painting every syllable, “Poor baby.” 

He’s always had it — this gift of filthy, dirty gab. This ability to render her craving and wanting with his words like it’s innate, practically. She shouldn’t be surprised when he shifts over her, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, tips of his curls tickling at her cheek, “Could stuff it full. Make it all better.” 

Y/N sighs. Finally. Like it’s a release of the whole act, and the seams of it come apart to bliss when he nips with his teeth. She cranes her neck to give him more room to work. 

“Would you like that?” 

And she would, she thinks. Very, very much, and his lingering fingers — when they pull out and he hooks a thumb in and just tugs down a smidge — remind her of how hot she suddenly is. How hot everything is, despite the chill in the air. Instead of answering, the young woman nudges with her chin — a nod. An unsatisfactory one, evidently. 

“Words,” Harry mutters. It’s gentle, and quiet, and she hopes the polar opposite of the way he’s going to fuck her.

She cranes her neck more and splays her thighs what little she can under his weight. It’s kind of a plea. It’s also sort of pathetic. “Yes.” 

But it makes his mouth crook. His palm draws away. No. That wasn’t the intended effect. She curbs her sound of protest, but he can tell that it’s bridled in the chamber — she knows because the curl of mirth grows wider. He sits up a bit, bracing on his arms until he hovers over her, and then he sighs, jade sliding to the sector of the bag that’s zipped. Slowly, like he’s teasing, he grips over the notch and tugs. 

“What d’you do if you want me to stop?” Harry beckons, nearly a whisper but not quite, fingers skimming up under his hoodie. The same hoodie clings to her flesh, and every nerve sparks alive at the touch, striking her lungs to expand heavier. The air catches when the pads of his fingers graze up the vale of her sides and siphon a flinch. 

“Teacup,” Y/N breathes the safeword in response, and the fingertips climb her ribs like a staircase, pleased. 

“Good girl,” He tells her, and the pads sink back over, bumping over the ridges, and he tugs the fabric up over her chest. 

Her bra is red. It’s a nice detail, all lacy cupped over her chest. He draws the tip of an index over the edge and says, “Cheeky,” like his comment isn’t, “…Did you wear this to get fucked?” 

The young woman gnaws at her lip. Innately, it’s not an accurate statement. She didn’t wear it to get fucked — not when she knew he’d be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night and fucking into her regardless of the state of her underthings. But it’s a nice touch when he ducks, palm squeezing over one of her tits, and tacks on all low against her ear, like it’s praise, “Because you know I love you in red, pet.” 

The satisfaction of pleasing him buds in her chest, right at the core of her ribcage, warmth pitted deep, and it slinks out like beams of gooey sunshine, winding and seeping through the cavity until her veins practically thrum yellow. She’s buzzing beneath him, pulse thumping and fibers of muscle twitching. It makes his mouth curve — the way he feels her trembling under him like she’s a taut string, and he traces a thumb over her mouth. 

Then jade flits to her chest, and Harry takes the thumb away to hook fingers under the cups and tug. They settle under her tits, perking them, and the way the wire settles over her ribcage isn’t particularly comfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he shimmies down her body and draws a stripe down with his tongue, all the way from the hollow of her throat to the edge of the bra, settling in between. He kisses down her stomach, green salacious and twinkling up through shadow at her, and his tongue draws a circle around her belly button. His mouth quirks there, too, because it makes her flinch. Because he knew it would. Harry brushes with wet taste buds lower, settles on a side, low on her tummy, and sucks a pressing kiss. Her whole spine wrings and writhes, arching when he pairs the sensation with a dull graze of his hand over a nipple. It’s barely anything, but it’s a touch she longs for. And she doesn’t know why, but it always lights her on fire when the pleasure entwines with something that makes her want to squirm out of her own skin.  

Because when he turns the graze into a pinch and a roll, when he hones on the drag of his tongue and the suckling of his mouth, when he skirts featherlight fingertips up her side like he’s plucking invisible strings, the yellow thrums red, and hot, and hungry. When his mouth lets up and he drags wet lips to curl over the opposite nipple and the featherlight turns more purposeful, squeezing at sensitive flesh, this knocked-out unph escapes her, like a bridled grunt he’s punched from her. Like a half-laugh, like a moan, like a mottled gasp, like discomfort and please-don’t-stop enmeshed, curbed out of desperation. It makes the red fucking neon. 

Harry withdraws with a pop from the bud, and the air bites onto the wet to replace his mouth. The ambiance of rickets and cold reminds her that they’re kind of, sort of, definitely in public, only really shielded from said public (and the intrusive presence of their friend group) by thin sheets of nylon erected with plastic poles. Her eyes say it all then — this hesitation sparking, lashes bouncing and bounding from the nervous shift of her pupils, working from his eyes to his plush mouth and back as he rises to settle over her more. 

“They’re asleep,” he promises, a hushed murmur he seals to her own mouth in a sloppy half-kiss. His top lip ghosts over her cupid's bow, and he smooths a hand back over the vale of her waist where he’d squeezed a second ago. Her chest rolls under him, and her mouth parts, just a little to let a mottled little sound escape, like a wheezing gasp she’s muffled. 

And he muffles it more with his own lips, pressing against her. The sleeping bag rustles, and it’s quiet beyond the stilted sheets barring the wilderness. Harry’s hand skims down. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Harry murmurs into her mouth, palm trailing until it stills at the waistband of her shorts, fingertip lingering over an expanse of skin below her belly button that he’s well aware will have her squirming. Y/N jerks. “Here? Or… maybe…”

The young woman practically does a squished, weighted version of a body roll beneath him when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, dragging the pad of his index over the sensitive skin higher up. “Maybe …here? …No, I don’t think so…” 

His tongue licks into her mouth when she opens wider for him, desperate for the taste of him on her tongue, and she nearly gasps over that same tongue — loudly — when his palm cups unceremoniously between her legs. “…I think you want me here. That’s about right, isn’t it?” 

Y/N makes a little noise — it’s something between desperation and wordless agreement, and it quirks the corners of Harry’s mouth, carving dimples in beside his smug beam. The hand withdraws so suddenly she wants to melt into the hungry soil. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet thing,” he declares, voice hushed, a bass-deep admission soft-spoken and colored with teasing.

Instead, he presses up until he’s hovering over her and then knees his way back, and then his fingers tuck up under the waistband of her shorts. When he discards them into the beginnings of a pile of clothing beside them, coaxing her hips to rise up enough with a soft word, blood teems into her cheekbones, like it’s all new and foreign. 

It’s not. 

It’s the most comforting and familiar when he traces a fingertip over the cleft at the crotch of her panties, the most familiar when he shimmies his fingertips under the sides of the fabric at her hips and tugs those off, too. It’s familiar when he holds a leg up, fingers gentle at her calf, and sponges kisses up her leg from her ankle to her inner thigh. It’s familiar when his tongue dances over hot, slick, flesh in craving, when it rolls around her clit and circles back. When he’s amused by the proof that he was right, that she is soaked, and his ego inflates like a hot air balloon. It’s familiar in the draw of his tongue, in the brush of his lips, in the way his fingers brush over her thighs, over her hole, over the sensitive areas in between. It’s familiar in the way that she watches stars speckle in the darkness behind her clenched eyelids, in the way that Harry doesn’t let up even as she pants and wrings her own fingers into his curls. In the way that he only responds with a moan against her at the rough treatment of his scalp.  

It’s somewhere between heaven and hell, teetering on the wire, when he laps over her pulsing cunt. His irises flicker up when she shudders, when Y/N makes a futile attempt to clasp her thighs over his head and prevent the light drag of his tongue over her oversensitive button. Instead, he tucks a palm against one of her legs and holds it down, plush lips curling around an ‘o’ and sucking. Every muscle seizes, her fingers twitching and struggling to curl into the thinly stuffed fabric of the sleeping bag. She bridles a whole-body thrash, neck straining as her breath stutters. 

“Please— plea— it’s too much—“ Y/N swallows midway her begging to avoid choking on her own spit, and that’s cute, Harry thinks. 

Aw, Y/N thinks he’d coo up at her from between her thighs, if his mouth wasn’t occupied at her core, those are pretty words. They don’t sound like a safeword, though. 

He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, humming quietly over her clit (honestly, she can’t tell if it’s in protest or agreement) and rolling a slow circle over nerves that are spent and nearly raw post his caress. 

Her chest is still rolling when he clambers his way up onto her, kneeing around her sides and then coaxing her arms up into a stretch. Harry cages those with firm thighs at the roots of the limbs, kneeing his way higher until he’s hovering over her chest and admiring her, all pliant and worn out and obedient beneath him. He sniffs, head cocked and eyes glimmering, and then sighs when he tucks fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers twitch, outstretched above her. And he’s weightless, and steady, and careful over her, but despite that, filth from his tongue punches her breath out like he’s sat directly over her lungs.

“Gonna suck my cock, baby.” 

It’s not really a question — not in tone. It’s a coo, a declaration, insight before Harry digs his fingers further past elastic and discards two layers of fabric with one tug, and his cock bobs free, glistening with a bead of precum at the head. 

Y/N swipes out over her lips with her tongue, and the sheen of spit over pink nearly matches the glimmer on the pink of his tip. The man cradles his free hand over his base and tucks the waistband lower on his hips, just until it rests under his balls and a glimpse of inked laurels and milky expanses of a bare tan line are on show. Bracing himself with a hand planted on the ground, Harry leans over her and aims his shaft, daubing over the plush of her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to swipe over the silky skin, she thinks he’s going to chastise her for her lack of patience. He doesn’t. Instead, he ogles down at the motion like she’s a goddess, cracks in otherwise apathy morphing; a light crease between his brows, a twitch in his lips. The same lips part for a shuddery breath like he’s trying to reign in his composure. And with every drag of his head over her slippery, hungry taste buds, a slow, side-to-side swipe that seems to lose precision with each motion, those cracks in his control give more. His jaw sets and he takes a long breath in through flared nostrils, and then shifts the palm that’d settled on the ground to rest over her wrists. 

“M’gonna fuck your mouth,” Harry tells her, pupils scoping carefully from her lips to her own eyes in finality. “What do you do if you want me to stop?” 

Y/N blinks. Her fingers twitch. She bends the digits over his grip and squeezes, flexing and unflexing over his own fingers like code in a tempo of frenzy. His gaze doesn’t even flicker from the aim of his tip, and he draws it over her mouth like he’s in awe of the sight.

“Good girl.” 

The young woman takes in a breath, mouth parting over his head slightly, all doe-eyed. He smushes his cockhead to the open seam.

“Open up for me,” the soft croon is accompanied by the tilt of his head, and a stray curl dangles over his forehead when he swipes the tip over her lips, “Nice and wide. Show me that pretty tongue.” 

And it slinks from her mouth as if on mindless command. Harry smears his tip over it like a filthy greeting, and then he feeds his fat cock in, guiding it up until the point to where he’s able to shift his weight onto the hand that doesn’t coat her wrists, careful not to cause the confined joints any discomfort.

“That’s it,” his praise seeps out all breathy, barely over an awed whisper as he sinks in and her tongue flexes to encompass the drag towards her gag reflex, “That’s a good girl.” 

The pointed little end grazes over his balls. 

“Eyes up here, pretty thing,” Harry encourages, ducking his own chin. There’s something pretty in the dance of her lash line, in the way her pupils flit up to his shadowy face, the way her lips tuck over her teeth to cushion his shaft. The way her tongue stays stuck out, flexing under the welcomed intrusion, “…Wanna watch them get all teary.” 

It’s like she tries to appease him. It’s as if on instinct to his words, that her lashes flutter as she tries to peer up, the beginnings of a ready sheen glazing the pretty color there as her tongue twitches and her throat bobs in an attempted swallow.  

And Christ, does it feel good when she does that. 

Harry’s own neck cranes, the muscles there flexing and veins swelling there like little ropes pulled taut under his skin. He groans, and it makes her do it again. His brows are furrowed when he risks a glance down at the picture-perfect view, and his hips nudge forward a smidge, only for him to bask in the sight of her irises lolling back and her lashes batting. A hiss lips through gritted teeth like rain through a gutter, and his head cocks further as he smooths an index to rest over her palm. She doesn’t have her digits balled — not all the way — not until his forefinger rests in her reach. She squeezes over that, almost like it’s an anchor. Something grounding to tether her. 

“Shit,” he manages out, barely over a whisper to bite back a throaty groan, hips rolling and brows furrowed in pleasure, “Shit — you’re good. You’re so good—“

And it makes the twitch of her lashes melt into a flitting bat, the color there rolling back and hiding behind the flutter. She can’t exactly hum in acknowledgment, but Y/N makes this garbled sound around him — this desperate kind she’d only make with his shaft stuffed down her throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. He squeezes over her wrists with his thumb, hips slowing until he’s wedged in to the hilt, stilled with the tip of her nose pressed to the light dusting of his pubic hair.

And Y/N thinks she’s going to implode. She’s going to implode if she doesn’t suffocate over his cock first. 

“Shh, shh,” Harry wriggles the index she’s gripping until her touch loosens enough, and he’s able to stroke the tip over her palm, “Shh.” 

Her pupils flit up to him in this deliciously delirious way for air. Harry tips his head down, the shadow of another curl flopping over his forehead. His cock twitches. Y/N makes another sound over him, this one lower. More pleading. More distressed. Her lashes flutter, cheeks puffing. Just when she’s about to clench and unclench over his fingers, he pulls out. It’s nearly all the way, but not quite, and she wheezes oxygen into her deprived lungs, muffling a fit of coughing. When she turns her head to take in more air, his tip slips out and draws a wet streak of saliva from the corner of her mouth across her cheek. 

“So pretty,” Harry murmurs. His tone sounds distant, and absentminded, and awed, like her mouth is divine and his voice is sort of full of worship, “You take me so well.”

Y/N blinks up at him, lips swollen post his ministrations and parted, slick with spit. Harry adjusts his grip, balancing his weight, and curls his lengthy digits over the base of his cock, aiming it back to that pretty, pretty mouth. 

Her jaw practically unhinges at the implication, tongue sticking out to daub at his cockhead when he croons, “And you’ll take a little more for me, sweetheart. Won’t you?” 

The sultry plush of his mouth curls up, all smug like when the tip of her tongue prods at his head, and then he feeds himself back into the warmth of her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips rolling slow and cautious as he guides himself in, “Yeah, you will.” 

He settles back into a pace of shallow, jutting thrusts, slow, and calculated, and testing. But then those melt and meld into something smoother, something deeper that brushes the back of her throat. Her fingers stretch wide and open and curl helplessly, never quite squeezing over his own digits, and Harry basks in the wet, pornographic sounds that envelop his shaft. Even as she tries to dim their volume, the sound of her sputtering around his cock isn’t something she can exactly mask when he brushes her gag reflex, again, and again. With every prod forward, every second she spends with her jaw wide open for him, that flame in her core kindles higher and higher. When he pulls out, jaw clenched and tummy flexing, ridges of his abs caught in the shadows, it’s like he pours kerosene. 

“Suck,” her friend tells her, soft-spoken as he nudges with his hips. His palm cradles his cock, fingers curled under the base. But her range of motion is limited, and Harry tips it up from her wanton, slick lips. Almost like it’s purposeful, because it definitely is.

A tentative tongue slips out to draw over his balls, and the way his front teeth lodge against the plush of his bottom lip, head cocked to indulge in the innocuous peer of her eyes beneath him — that’s a pretty sight she can make out even through the lack of light. She takes a million mental snapshots with her pupils, all of him in his all, curls dangling from the angle and the sharp line of his nose, his panting mouth as her tastebuds drag, sinew of muscle at his abdomen flexing, a rise and fall. The barest shape of the dark anchor etched into his wrist, his long, ring-clad fingers, the way they curl over his cock. The shape of it hovering over her face. 

A low groan squeezes past the door he’s made with his teeth, and then he says, “Yeah. There. Go on.” 

Her tongue morphs to her mouth, lips latching over lightly and sucking, just as he’d directed, and parting teases paste to him like doting kisses. Her lashline bounces as her eyes attempt to make his responses out through the rough angle and the dark that coats them. His head craned back there, his tummy rising and falling in pants there, his face tipped down over her to watch. The most insightful — and frankly, the most satisfying — are the sounds. 

The hisses of air he sucks in through his teeth, the way huffs fall out from between his open lips. They’re slow, and they come out like he’s trying to control them for the sake of the decibel, but they shake as they escape, and that’s a telltale. And then there’s the moans. 

There aren’t many of those to indulge in, but there’s a couple, one that Harry can’t seem to curb, despite his seemingly best efforts, when Y/N rolls her tongue over him all slow-like and comes off with a pop. And then another, later, that has him hanging his head when she stipples kisses to the sensitive skin there. 

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 

The young woman hums, maybe in agreement or maybe goading, lashes batting innocently beneath him as she draws her lips over his sac aimlessly. 

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and then he stifles and clams up like he’s contemplating. When her tongue drags over him again he seems to make a decision, tearing himself away and kneeing his way back until he’s hovering over her thighs, his cock bobbing and wet with spit, “Sit up. Take this off.” 

Do this, do that. A shudder climbs up the knobs of her spine, slithering its way up the bone as she basks in the dominating note plucking at his tone. The sweatshirt catches on her hair and tugs strands, but it’s frenzied, somehow fond, the way his hands rove up her sides and slip up her back, roaming over hot skin to toggle at the back of her bra.

Then it’s, “Roll over,” with the last of her clothing discarded into the darkness, somewhere beside them in the same, sloppy pile with her shorts and her underwear. “Gonna—“ she thinks he sheds his t-shirt then, imagines his muscles rippling and flexing as he pulls it off, over his head from the back, “—fuck you like I want your snug cunt wrapped around me forever.” 

And then go his shorts, judging by the way his weight dips and balances, the shuffling from behind as he kicks them off and they’re flung somewhere by his ankle. He presses up onto her, grappling her by the hip, all warm weight and everything brushing together. 

“You wanna bounce on my cock, baby?” Harry murmurs, pink lips grazing her temple. A curl tickles at her cheekbones when he ducks to skim his teeth over her earlobe, to ghost a breath of promise — of foreshadowing against her neck when he tells her, sultry low and smooth like honey, “Be a good girl and ask Daddy nicely. Maybe then I’ll let you.”  

Shit. Fucking Shit. That little word teems down her ears and hikes all the way down her nervous system and back up, lighting everything in her alive.  

Quietly, barely over a whisper, Y/N beckons, “Please.” And when Harry doesn’t immediately move, she licks out at her slips, swallows, and pleads, “Daddy. I need you. Need you inside.” 

In response, her friend cups a hand over a love handle and guides his cock to press against her. But he doesn’t breach. 

“Better, but not quite,” he sighs. There’s leaves rustling outside in the gentle breeze, but Y/N doesn’t hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears when she begs more, and it doesn’t get any quieter when Harry rewards her by tucking himself inside and pumping forward, just about halfway. 

It’s a crying shame when he doesn’t make any motion to keep going. And then it’s quiet besides their panting breaths intermingling. Eventually, though, he does talk.

“Fuck yourself on it,” Harry instructs, cadence ludicrously controlled given that half of his cock is tucked into her. Y/N peers over her shoulder to catch glimpses of his furrowed brows — the rip in the stitch of semblance. She can only manage to see so much. He ducks his head and nips at the shell of her ear, coaxing tingles down her neck, her shoulders, all the way from her nape. “Go on. Don’t pretend to be shy about it.” 

Fucking fuck. How can she not be, she thinks, when he talks like that? 

There’s a heat that seeps over her the crest of her cheekbones where he can’t see, and she squeezes over him in response to the filth. Harry settles back up. From the corner of her eye, Y/N notes lines of muscle shaping his arms as he hovers over her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she arches her hips up a tad and nudges back. It’s not enough — it’s maybe an inch, and she rocks forward by pressing her hips down and then repeats the motion. Just as there was a lack of control over her shame when he spewed dirty, brazen, filth, there’s also a lack of motion when she’s rolled forward with her tummy pressed to the ground. There’s only so much — so many inches she can ride back on when she’s rendered immobile. 

He knows it, too — it’s obvious by the poorly muffled note of mirth in his tone from behind, “Good girl. But you can do better than that, can’t you?” 

Helplessly, Y/N grits her teeth, fingers tangling into the fabric of her sleeping bag as she rolls her hips back in another attempt. It’s stuttery, and awkward, and not really a seamless, Shakira-esque roll at all. It’s a poor shuffle, hips raising more than traveling back. 

“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.” 

Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls of a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter. 

Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock. 

“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.

“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in, honestly, an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?” 

She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied by a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat. 

“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?” 

Y/N hums. There isn’t much she can say to disagree because it’s good. At some point, his slow rolls morph into sharp juts, and the brace of his arms bends and gives until his chest is flush to her back. 

“Please, please, please, please,” Y/N croaks out the mantra, muzzled by the smush of her cheek to the ground with the pressure of his hand palming at the side of her skull. 

“Shh,” Harry rocks forward, fingertips twitching into her roots like a meld of petting and admonishment. He rocks into her until he’s flush against her backside, splitting her over him to the hilt, “Shh …don’t need to beg, sweetheart. You can have it. Have it all.”

He’s warm weight over her, hard muscle like hot, sticky stone as he works into her from behind. He’s a welcome stretch, a pleasant burn, inches of bliss that her spongy walls cling to in a warm hug. He’s tips of curls brushing over her cheeks, filthy words in a murmur flush to the shell of her ear, little, repressed grunts and shuddery exhales as his hips rock. He’s a headlock that squeezes over her throat deliciously and keeps her neck craned back. It’s in this perfect way that almost has her gasping for breath. 

The young woman practically bites into her tongue to curb a nearly animalistic groan that climbs from the depths of her chest and squeezes out past her detained windpipe. She doesn’t need to try as hard when his opposite arm shimmies up over the poorly-cushioned sleeping bag, when his hand clamps against her mouth, palm smushing over her lips. Instead, her high whimper catches on his skin and muffles out. Her nostrils flare over his digits when Harry shushes and chastises through grunts. 

“I know, baby. I know. Need you to be — shit — a good, quiet girl for me, though.”

Her irises nearly loll back into her skull, fluttery for the ceiling of fabric in their sockets at the dominating tone of his cadence. 

“Gonna be good for me? Make me—“ his words taper off when he muzzles a groan with the seal of his own lips, and what comes out is hushed, and masculine, and obviously bridled. But it doesn’t make her as hungry as when he beckons, “—Make me pleased with you?”

Because she wants to please him, wants to be good, wants his digits to press harder over her tongue when he slinks them into her mouth. It’s not her fault when the motion siphons a whimper. So Harry does — press harder that is, an inclination for her lips to wrap over his fingers, his chin tucked over her shoulder. His mouth presses to her temple, gracing her with puffs of air through his nose as he rocks into her.

“There we go,” Harry coos, soft and barely over a whisper when her mouth seals over the intrusive digits, “There’s a good girl. Let’s keep those pretty sounds to ourselves.” 

He rocks into her until she’s whining into his hand, until they’re really slick with sweat, and he’s grazing at his own peak, working until it unravels him from the inside out. She’s still making hushed sounds against his palm when he groans all low into her hair and his motions melt into something stuttery, when he empties ribbon after ribbon as she clenches over him and milks him through it.

He’s probably going to rifle through the dark for some discarded fragment of fabric to clean the mess. It’ll be haphazard on account of the night, and she’ll still feel the sticky remnants, dried up at the peaks of her inner thighs in the morning. But it won’t really be gross. Sort of a sordid, morning-after keepsake, sort of a dirty thrill as they pack their stuff among the others in their cohort. Sort of, probably, an excuse to fuck later in the day when they have a moment alone to themselves, reminiscing on the night before. 

But before that, he’ll probably clean his mess and run a hand down the vale of her side in a praising caress, like he normally does. Probably lay next to her for a bit before sneaking off to his own tent because, even though they’re just friends that fuck, he’s never been weird about cuddling — aftercare is sort of a must. He’ll probably say goodnight with another searing kiss, the kind that burns deep inside, because every time he leaves is kerosene actively poured into the pit of a bonfire. Because every time he leaves, she wants him more.

Tomorrow they’ll still be friends. 

Just friends that fuck.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry x sub!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #fwb!harry #fwb au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shots #dom!harry

[eveningepiphany]

innocent | H.S oneshot

my masterlist

summary: while on the couch, harry ends up with innocent y/n on his lap, and she gets unexpectedly very worked up over his thigh being under her, and he does something about it.

warnings: SMUT! thigh riding, dirty talk, handjob (m receiving), best friend! harry, and a whole lot of praise kink.

requested by @shqtteredcrystql1

a/n: i absolutely love this request. thank you so much to the lovely user above who pmed me with it. <3

———

You shake your head at yourself.

You had not thought any of this would lead to you feeling so suddenly.. needy. But it has?

You were sitting in the lounge room of the beach house you were staying in, watching a movie with Harry while both parts of your family had gone out for the evening.

You and Harry had opted to stay back. The crowded bars being not your vibe for the night, and wanting to just chill out at the house for a while.

The movie was not long beginning in the background on the TV, with bags of half eaten snacks resting on the wooden coffee table— not that you could see any of it, as it was to the back of you.

It started when Harry and you fought over the blanket on the couch.

Pulling it off eachother just to be difficult, and roughhousing until he proposed a quick solution when your fingers started prodding his rib cage as pay back.

“C’mere— c’mere!” He rushed out, hands up in defeat as you technically won the mini physical brawl. Even though you know if he really wanted to win, he would a hundred times over, given his strength.

You went still and frowned as he didn’t follow up with a verbal explanation, and just held hands out for you to come to.

“Why?” You said, slightly amused.

“Because.” He stated.

So you moved forward to him, his hands coming in contact with your hips, and seizing you forward.

Bringing you seated in his lap.

“I can’t actually watch the movie, H.” You flush at your positioning. His hands still bracketing your waist like it’s nothing.

Which you’re confused why you’re reacting like this.

This has never happened to you with anyone else. Only ever with Harry.

And it’s not the first time it’s happened with him. You get big feelings often when he’s near you. They come out of nowhere, when he touches you gently during conversation, or when he flashes you a dimple in his smile.

And this warm feeling will swell in your chest, bubble down into your stomach… and sometimes further. It will simmer down in between your legs.

Leaving you with this feeling of being hot and bothered, in a completely foreign way.

Usually it’s only faint. A quick, fleeting feeling for you. However you’ve never had yourself situated on his lap.

His strong and muscly thigh straight underneath you— mostly bare, his shorts riding up to leave the hair dusted skin visible. His tiger tattoo hidden under you.

“Sorry, want to turn around?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Your head snaps up from where you were looking at where your body met his— your pupils blown out a little.

Your eyes lock with his, and your reminded that this is your harry.

Your favourite person. Your best friend. Who has pretty green eyes, paired chocolatey brown curls that fall over them, and frame his gorgeous face.

Who smiles at you like this all the time, like you’re also his favourite person.

“Well i did want to watch 10 things I hate about you, instead of listening to it.” Your hands are resting on his shoulders, and he lets out a chuckle at your gentle quip.

“Alright, darling, let’s turn you around.” He laughs at you, rotating your body himself— handling you so that your facing the screen, your back plastered to the hard wall of his chest.

The new position evokes a flutter from your core, one completely unexpected to you.

And you’re hyperaware that there’s very little separating his leg from the sudden heat between yours, just a thin pair of sleep shorts.

“Better?” He asks casually into your ear, pulling the blanket to cover your laps.

“Yea, thank you.” You breathe out, sounding a little airy.

Your eyes find the screen, but your wholly distracted by his body.

His thumb circling your hip, the gentle breath from his nose hitting the back of your neck, and again, his thigh underneath you.

Your heart is stuttering.

You’re so— confused?

He’s your best friend. You know that, and you’re not sure why you’re feeling like this. If it’s normal?

Another concern of if he can feel it. Feel you.

The heat radiating from you.

You zone out a little, eyes locked on the movie screen. Eventually your breathing evening out for the most part, as you adjust to what was happening.

Focusing momentarily on the comfort of your surroundings. Harry practically enveloping you, the feeling of the couch pillows warm and soft around you.

The gentle hum of the waves crashing from the nearby ocean, sounding through the cracked open window.

Which the breeze being carried through it is just the right temperature, and just strong enough to have the candle flames flickering on top of he TV cabinet.

There’s a warm glow cast across the room from the array of candles, and salt lamp turned on in the corner.

Everything about it was homely, and comforting. And you tapped into the euphoric amount of bliss that surrounded you.

After a few minutes, Harry moved, shuffling his hips back to prop himself up.

His thigh underneath you dragging your thin sleep shorts along your centre, the pressure of his muscles rippling as he adjusted with your weight atop him causing an unbelievably pleasurable feeling to strike through you.

A whine slips past your lips before you can even stop it. The desperate sound filling the room, and it’s too late to take it back. Because you know he’s heard it with the way he stills immediately.

Embarrassment starts to flicker through you hardly a second later.

“Y/N?” He seems to almost whisper from behind you.

“God— sorry— I don’t know… I don’t know why that happened.”

He laughs, the sound golden and dipped in honey as it enters your ears, “Did you just moan?”

“No!” Your skin is flaming as you deny quickly.

He pushes his leg up to press into you again, and you purse your lips together as you try so hard not to let a sound out, or roll your hips instinctively against him.

You fail with the latter of those two things, your body pushing into his leg before you can even try to stop it.

“Hm, what’s gotten you all worked up, darling?” He let’s his hands run up along the side of your rib cage, and is admittedly very curious to what your feeling right now.

He was surprised at first, but fuck, your innocent little whimper has him feeling like he’s got a point to prove.

And he wants so badly to have you come undone under his touch.

“I— fuck…” you lean your head back into his shoulder, unable to form words.

His eyes skate down the profile of your gorgeous face, and further along your arched body.

“Want me to do something about the heat between those legs of yours, baby? Can feel how hot and bothered you are.”

“Harry…” you sigh out as you begin to give into the situation, “please.”

“Alright lovely, since you’re rubbing yourself all over my leg, keep going.”

You frown a little— well it feels good as far as your concerned now. But your unsure how to just continue.

“Here,” he turns you around again, and for a second smiles at your flushed and flustered face.

All the sudden the eye contact has you tingling again, his face enough to have you a mess in his hands.

His hands guide yours to rest on his shoulders, and then his own slide back down to your hips.

“Now, just keep doing what you were before hm, rub yourself on my thigh okay?”

He watches as you experiment with the movement, rolling forward on with your body and moaning at the sensation that it evokes in you.

“Oh.“ you grind against him again, harder this time.

“Oh—“

You clench, and he pushes his leg up into you with a moan from himself as he feels your cunt clamping around nothing.

“Fuck, y’gonna tell me why you’re so wet?” He grabs the back of your neck so you’re looking at him.

“I don’t know…” you whine, humping along his thigh. The thin fabric of your shorts going damp from your arousal.

“Your thighs. Your hands. You.” You speculate aloud, watching his pupils blow out with desire.

“My thigh under your cunt get you all worked up?”

“Yes— yes!” You groan out, jaw falling lax as your clit gets caught just right between the shorts and his thigh.

“Baby, take the shorts off. Wanna feel y’soak onto my leg.”

You hardly hear him, still pushing onto him until he physically has to lift you up.

He chuckles as you whine at the absence of contact.

“Tell me, Y/N, Is this okay?” He confirms, pulling your leg from in between his, so now you’re laying practically bridal style in his arms.

“Please. Take them off.” You nod eagerly, back arching in his hold.

He laughs, hair falling again across his brow.

“Let me savour this okay. Look too pretty for your own good.” He mumbles, leaning down to let his lips meet the skin of your neck.

You groan as he sucks the skin into his mouth, and his hand skates up the hem of your shirt, running between the valley of your braless breasts.

“If you need to stop,” he licks over the skin on your neck he was just abusing with his teeth, “let me know, love.”

“I won’t, please keep going…”

You hiss as his hand wraps around your tit, letting his finger tweak the peak of your nipple before running it back down, past your belly button to settle between your still covered pussy.

“Where were we,” he hums gently, rubbing you over your soaked through shorts.

“Off, Harry, please.” Your sentences weren’t properly formed, and you scraped your nails down the muscle of his tattooed bicep.

“God, listen to you. Can you hear how whiney your pretty voice sounds?”

He says it in such a way it sounds like a compliment. The typical connotation of whiney being negative. But he says it like you’re an angel for it.

He peels your shorts down your legs, and audibly groans at the sight of your naked cunt in front of him.

“I should’ve known you didn’t even have a pair of panties on.” He gently taps over your bare clit, and the light touch still has you squirming.

He rubs you a little, allowing the pads of his fingers to tease your entrance. Not before man handling you back on top of his thigh.

Your blindsided by how amazing everything feels.

“Alright darling, use me. Grind that wet little cunt on my thigh to get off.” His words have you fluttering around nothing, and him feeling your bare entrance clenching atop his skin makes his already hard cock twitch beneath the waistband of his shorts.

His hand comes down to palm over himself, delivering a gentle squeeze to try and relieve some of the pressure down there.

You pant as you resume a relatively fast pace, aided by the fact your arousal is dampening his leg. Making it easier to slide yourself on.

“Mmm, god. It feels so good!” You moan out, hands coming to his shoulders to brace yourself.

“So does your pussy on my leg, baby. You’re so wet for me. Who would have thought my little Y/N would get so worked up over sitting on my thigh of all things.” He praises, hands coming to cup the swell of your ass

“No one’s ever— fuck— made me feel like this.” You cry, the stimulation along your clit euphoric.

“Ever, huh?”

You nod, “Ever.”

He could just moan at the thought. That his sweet thing is completely foreign to sexual experiences with other people. That you got all wet on his thigh and had no idea why.

The idea that you weren’t sure why you were trying so hard not to push your pussy onto him. And that you’re probably so sensitive down there, so reactive.

That last one has him struggling not to place you on that coffee table and fuck your hole with his tongue.

He only held back because the sight of your riding his thigh was indescribably hot.

“Good girl f’me, let me help you, make y’come all on my thigh.” He hummed, pushing his leg up to add some more pressure on your clit.

“Harry!” Your pretty voice moaned out as his hands came to guide your hips, to push them faster and harder against his skin.

The control he was taking over you was enough to make you almost drip. Because even if he was so gentle about it, it was insane.

He pushed your bucking hips down, and his leg up, making a delicious pressure that had an unfathomable heat simmer between your legs.

“I wanna come on your leg, Harry, please…” you’re pleading him, hips messily fucking over his skin.

“Yea, baby? My perfect little slut.” He tests out the nickname, watching as your whole body reacts with a quiver at his dirty mouth.

“Oh, you really do like it dirty…” he realises out loud, smirking as you moan.

“Look down at your cunt riding my leg, humping all over it.” He gently laces his hand in your hair, tilting your head down, “How about when you’re done, I get you on your knees and make you clean it up?”

Your mouth goes slack, and it’s baffling to hear such words coming from him.

Yet he could ask you to do anything at this point and you’re convinced you wouldn’t even hesitate before doing it.

“I will, I will!” You nod, thighs quivering on each side of his own.

“Cmon pretty, fuck,” he bucks into his hand that was stroking over his fabric-clad cock, “wanna watch you come. Hear you cry out my name.”

Your clit was pulsing along his now drenched tattoo, and you could feel your muscles tightening in your stomach.

The simmering feeling in your core that you had originally started with has turned into a pot that was about to boil over.

“Harry, ohmygod—“ you whined, falling further into his chest, hands coming up to intertwine with his hair.

He pushed his thigh up against you, and the pressure finally peaked, and you teetered on the brink of orgasm.

You were moaning into his ear, and he could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, waiting for that final little nudge.

“Good fucking girl, let it all go f’me.” He growls into your ear, accent husky, and the words zip straight to where you needed it.

You let out a loud moan of his name, nails dragging down along his shoulders as you messily grind through the pleasure.

He is groaning at the sight. Just as fucking beautiful as he imagined.

Your back arched, and he could feel your cunt pulsating around his leg. It was filthy, and he loved every damn second of it.

“Oh, god— harry, please!” You whimpered, your core jutting against him still, but now with slower more irratic movements.

“That’s it, ride it out on me love. Fuck.” He curses as you absentmindedly drag your lips down the column of his neck.

You slowly come to a stop, the stimulation too much for you now. And your panting as you pull back to look at Harry, and the mess you made atop his thigh.

You lock eyes with him, his hair is messy, and cheeks are flushed. You smile at him, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his also smiling lips.

You glance down between your legs, spotting immediately the glistening skin of Harry’s leg, and how his finger reaches to get a sample and bring it to his lips.

Watching, he sucks his finger into his mouth, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.

“Taste like a dream, my darling.”

He gathers some more on the same finger, bringing it up to your own lips, letting you suck on them.

“Mm, good isn’t it? Look so good with your mouth wrapped ‘round m’fingers.” He praises, eyes darkening at the sight of your lips sucking his long digits.

You slide off them, taking in his beautiful appearance again. How the warm glow of the lounge room light is casting over his tan skin.

You’re still a little muddled about everything that just occurred. And that the little crush that’s always festered in your head when it comes it Harry has just led you here.

Him being the first person to ever see your pussy, and make you come. On his thigh of all places.

“Thank you…” you flush, a little shyness coming out.

“Don’t get shy with me baby, just watched y’come on my thigh. No room for that.” He smiles, pulling you into his chest.

“Now,” he begins again, stroking the small of your back, “let’s go get cleaned up before everyone suddenly comes home to you still half-naked on my lap.”

You laugh a little as he pecks your cheek, “then we can come back to the couch, and rewind 10 things I hate about you and share some ice cream, m’kay?”

“And uhm, what about you?” You gesture to the tent in his shorts.

“Worry about that another time, alright lovely. Not tonight, that was all for you.” He confirms.

“It’ll just… go away?” You frown, confused— and a little embarrassed you didn’t know what would happen with it.

“Should mostly. Might still have a semi, since all I’m gonna be able to think about is what y’taste like. But again, you can worry about me another day.”

You shake your head, “i want to worry about you now though…”

He blinks slowly, “Fuck, well if you keep bloody begging me to get y’hands on my cock, I’m not gonna be strong enough to tell ya no.”

“Never, uh, done this before. As long as that doesn’t put you off.” You shrug, watching his green eyes flick between your hand and his erection.

“Don’t stress, darling. I have been pretty much about to come at the sight of you, I don’t think it’s gonna take much.”

“And for the record,” he rests a hand on your hip, “nothing could put my off of you. Especially when it comes to you touching me.”

You nod, slowly. Still a little unsure as you reach down to pull the waistband of his shorts from his laurel-adorning hips.

He lifts his hips so you can pull them down, far enough that his cock springs out of them.

Your lips parted at the sight, his flushed tip, with beads of precum seeping out, blotting along down his shaft.

His cock was as gorgeous as you’d imagined. Because of course a pretty boy like him would have such a nice cock.

Not that you have much to judge off, but if the smooth skin and the sudden overproduction of saliva in your mouth was any inkling… you would say he was perfect.

Your hand reached to stroke along him, noticing the lack of lubrication.

You put to use the gathering pool of spit in your mouth, and you pursed your lips to let some of it drop down onto his tip.

He had a whole body reaction as he felt your warm spit slip down the head of his cock. A moan sounded from him, and he sounded like an angel.

“Fuckkk, already spitting on my cock. Little minx y’are.” His eyes went half lidded, and he fought to keep them open. Just to watch your all too curious expression and your hands glide over his cock.

“Faster?” You asked, looking for advice.

“Squeeze it, baby. Then stroke it.” He directed, struggling to form the words.

Then struggling even more not to cry out as you did just as he asked.

“Y/N.” He hissed, bucking his hips up as you started stroking his cock with a moderate pace.

“You look very pretty.” You meekly stated, admiring the way his face has flushed and lips have parted all from your touch.

You speed up your hands, watching intensely as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth in attempt to control himself.

“My god, your hands…” He moans, arm coming to drape over his forehead as he rolled his hips into your warm hand.

You took liberty to swipe your thumb over his tip, and your eyebrows raising as his whole body shudders.

“To know you’re fucking my cock with your spit and your hand.” He sighs out, heat building in his stomach.

“Can I touch here too?” Your hand gently ghosts over where his balls are, and you’re not sure if that’s somewhere he wants you to touch.

“Fuck yes, baby. Ohhh god, I’m gonna come so fast.” He is moaning suddenly without care as you massage him attentively.

Dragging your hands back up to his cock, you continue to stroke and rub along him.

“Want to see you finish too…” you smile, also excited to see the way his body reacts when he comes.

“Cant wait to paint your hand in my fuckin’ come.” He pants, hand gripping the couch cushion near his head.

He can probably feel you getting wet on him again. Seeing him like this has you a mess.

“Fuck— any faster and I’m gonna come on your hand Y/N.” He moans, now his thighs being the ones trembling.

You fuck his cock with your fist faster, in awe of the way he moans out as his orgasm hits him.

Ropes of his warm come spurting out his tip, spilling down your hand as you keep up the pace.

Waiting until he whines with the overstimulation.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He shakes his head, blissed out from his orgasm.

Hazily taking in the way you lick a stripe up your thumb, where his come had landed.

You enjoyed the flavour of it, salty and overall pleasant on your tastebuds.

“Can I?” You leant down, wanting more off his cock.

“God, love— wanting to clean the come off my damn cock it tasted that good.” He praises you, letting your mouth gently slide over his softening dick.

You make quick work of the mess, and he remarks shortly, “fuck, gonna have to spend some more time later with your mouth wrapped around me. You’re like an angel.”

Once you’re done, you pull his shorts back over him and watch him smile, dragging you in for another soft kiss— regardless of whether his dick was just in your mouth.

“Alright pretty, let’s get cleaned up before you start grinding anymore on my thigh. Can feel you already getting wet again.”

“Yes, Harry.” You whisper, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #fanfiction #best friend!harry #fwb harry #he’s so fine #fbh #frat boy harry #harry styles smutshot #smut #thigh riding

[tsumtsumrry]

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry. 

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face. 

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is. 

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it. 

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back. 

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways. 

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm. 

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple, 

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him. 

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it. 

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff. 

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan. 

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.” 

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more. 

“Show me. Take me home, H.” 

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt. 

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it. 

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips. 

“Whatever you want. Kiss?” 

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle. 

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something. 

“Harry…” 

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter. 

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you. 

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter. 

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly. 

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement. 

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.” 

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie. 

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips. 

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time. 

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly. 

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top. 

“Wanna be my sous chef?” 

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry. 

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.” 

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed. 

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.” 

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–” 

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?” 

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.” 

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you. 

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out. 

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly. 

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes. 

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles. 

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there. 

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone. 

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around. 

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes  a mental note to check on you later. 

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer. 

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at. 

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears. 

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers. 

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable. 

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.” 

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.” 

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end. 

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out. 

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?” 

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response. 

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.” 

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch. 

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him. 

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?” 

“See you soon, petal.” 

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry. 

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs. 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder. 

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response. 

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that. 

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face. 

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.” 

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth. 

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out. 

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you. 

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group. 

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love. 

Dangerous. 

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.” 

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips. 

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.” 

Ever the flirt, he is. 

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know. 

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.” 

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him. 

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him. 

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches. 

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit. 

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there. 

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess. 

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands. 

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.” 

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.” 

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh. 

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night. 

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are. 

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.” 

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.  

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit. 

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind. 

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for. 

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage. 

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in. 

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner. 

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice. 

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it. 

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger. 

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under. 

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind. 

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.” 

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. 

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family. 

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face. 

Uh oh. You know that expression. 

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?” 

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind. 

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.” 

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

  Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow. 

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face. 

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims. 

Your smile drops. 

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore. 

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date. 

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman. 

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless. 

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone. 

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse. 

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over. 

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break. 

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.” 

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go. 

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,”  you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.” 

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home. 

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes. 

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“I want you to meet—” 

You can’t do it. 

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up. 

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now. 

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears. 

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt. 

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry. 

December 24, Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside. 

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die. 

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day. 

Harry. 

Over and over again. 

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good? 

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me. 

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please? 

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me. 

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did. 

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried. 

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead. 

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back. 

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me. 

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more. 

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and  go to open it nonetheless. 

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door. 

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here. 

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck. 

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put. 

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―” 

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.” 

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―” 

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.” 

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters. 

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face. 

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest. 

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours. 

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. 

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it. 

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t” 

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little. 

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—” 

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression. 

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication. 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–” 

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away. 

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply. 

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs. 

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout. 

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind. 

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time. 

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes. 

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels. 

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours. 

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you. 

“I know, I know H.” you nod again. 

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?” 

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist. 

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies. 

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear. 

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will. 

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks. 

“Do me a favor, honey?” 

You nod eagerly. 

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action. 

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts. 

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting. 

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.” 

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage. 

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased. 

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?” 

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?” 

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are. 

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you. 

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well. 

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.” 

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?” 

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking. 

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good. 

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.” 

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you. 

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips. 

“Did such a good job.” 

“M’so proud of you.” 

“You come so pretty.” 

“So beautiful.”  

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come. 

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face. 

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye. 

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is. 

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit. 

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”  

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?” 

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later. 

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.” 

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home. 

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit. 

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop. 

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before. 

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?” 

“Meant what?” 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” 

December 31st, New Years Eve. 

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist. 

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. 

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks. 

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life. 

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him. 

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks. 

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you. 

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look. 

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb. 

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold. 

9

8

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look. 

6

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?” 

4

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles #harry styles fics #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles fwb

[lilystyles]

no strings attached.

this series is completed!! a @lilystyles series.

y/n and harry have always known each other and been in each other's lives, but harry's rapid rise in fame causes a drift between them. what happens when they find their way back to each other and act on the feelings they have always had?

or y/n is a virgin and she doesn't want to be, and harry is an old friend who doesn't mind helping her out.

virgin!reader x friendswbenefits!h

* * * * *

old friends

harry and y/n are old friends who reunite and quickly pick right back up where they left off. new tensions arise and a deal is struck up. (5k)

song for this chapter 'Old Friends' by Simon & Garfunkle.

watermelon sugar, highhhh

harry found a new muse for a new song. it's called watermelon sugar, dedicated to the sweetness between y/n's thighs. (5k)

song for this chapter 'Watermelon Sugar' by H.

comfort

y/n calls harry drunk and scared, harry picks her up and helps take care of her. the next morning y/n worries she'll scare him off, but of course, harry eases those worries. (4.5k)

song for this chapter 'Back to the Old House' by The Smiths.

bloom

y/n and harry go to dinner and something stronger blooms between them. (11.6k!!)

song for this chapter 'Hungry Eyes' by Eric Carmen.

rock the boat, baby!

y/n and harry are reminded of their teenage years and take a trip down memory lane on a camping trip. (8.7k)

song for this chapter 'Rock the Boat' by Hues Corporation.

one of us

karaoke night leads to a run-in with paparazzi. y/n's face is splashed everywhere, and harry doesn't know what to do. (5.3k)

song for this chapter 'One Of Us' by Abba.

stuck in the middle with you

y/n is the maid of honour and harry is the best man, what happens when they are forced to share a room? do they reconcile their issues or are they too far gone? (10.6k)

song for this chapter 'Silver Springs' by Fleetwood Mac.

* * * * *

blurbs for nostrings!H

can be found on my blurbs masterlist right here

more blurbs are coming soon upon request! please use my asks box.

just leave me a prompt or idea - maybe something you want to happen or thought about happening with nostrings!H :)

thank you for reading, this was my first ever series on tumblr love my babies sm 🫶🫶🫶🫶

so many more fics are coming soon i pinky swear! love u all so muchhhhhhh

#nostringsattachedseriesbylilystyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader smut #lilystyles #harrystylesseries #childhood best friend to strangers to fwb to lovers

[goldengalore]

Rough Day

Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)

***

Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.

“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.

He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.

“Rough day?” she asks, studying him.

“You have no idea,” he mutters.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Of course he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t like to talk at the end of a bad day. He likes to fuck. Without holding back.

Glancing at her, he says, “Wait there.” Then he picks up his bag and heads into her bedroom. A minute later, he emerges from the room without the bag and strides over to her.

“Up,” he says, as if he were instructing a dog.

“Okay.” She sighs and takes her time getting off the couch to avoid seeming too eager, even though on the inside, she’s ready to do just about anything he tells her.

Once she’s on her feet, he simply says, “Clothes off.”

Again, she dawdles while pulling her sweatshirt off and fumbles with the waistband of her shorts, lazily inching them down her legs. Harry releases an impatient sigh.

“Today, Y/N.”

“Okay, okay!” She quickly removes the rest of her clothes.

The path his eyes take as they trail down her bare body sends the blood rushing between her legs. He steps closer and places his mouth over hers. His hands rest on her hips for a mere second before sliding to her backside. He squeezes it firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her round cheeks and pulling her body upward. She rises up on her toes and clutches his shoulders for balance. His teeth bite into her bottom lip. He tugs her even closer until her naked body is flush against his clothed one.

The kiss ends abruptly, leaving her wanting more. All of a sudden, he lifts her off the ground and slings her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing at all. Her upper body hangs behind him, her ass in the air.

“What are you—?” she starts, but he lands a swift smack to her rear, ordering her to be quiet.

He carries her to the bedroom and tosses her on the bed, not bothering with gentleness, then flips her onto her stomach. While she finds her bearings, he bends down to grab something from his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to the bed.

A moment later, her wrists are pulled behind her back and cuffed together. His hands wrap around her ankles and yank her towards him until she’s bent over the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor. She hears the clink of his belt buckle behind her.

It all happens so fast. One moment, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock over her entrance, and the next, his entire length is inside her. No warning. No preamble. A strangled moan escapes her mouth.

“So fucking wet,” he growls, grabbing on to her hips. “You like being manhandled and tossed around like a ragdoll?”

He doesn’t wait for her to answer before ramming his cock into her again. Usually, he’ll start slow and build up to a hard and fast pace, but today, he seems overcome by a primal desperation—one that has probably been festering inside him all day. She can barely keep up, but that makes it all the more exhilarating.

One hand pins her bound wrists to her lower back, keeping her in place, while the other grips her hair and yanks her head backwards, forcing her to arch her back. He finishes fast, emptying deep inside of her cunt, grunting and moaning with relief. She looks over her shoulder at him.

“That’s it? I didn’t even come,” she says just to egg him on.

He grabs a fistful of her hair again and speaks lowly into her ear, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your pleasure, hm? Sluts like you don’t deserve to come.”

He releases her hair and pulls out. Some of his come leaks down her inner thigh. Through the corner of her eye, she sees him reach down towards his bag. And then something cool and hard pokes between her legs. He presses the object into her slit, twisting it around, dousing it in her arousal and his come. It’s a plug, she realizes. A rather large one.

Once it’s covered in a mix of their fluids, he uses his free hand to spread apart her cheeks and starts inserting the plug into her tightest hole. He doesn’t really take his time. The rounded tip goes in, then the rest of it is hastily crammed into her. They’ve been doing this long enough that it slides in easily, but she still squirms and whines at the discomfort.

“Oh, stop whining,” he snaps. “It’s not even that big. You’ve had bigger things in your ass before.”

She scowls at him over her shoulder. “Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try shoving one up your own ass?”

He retaliates with a harsh spank.

“Ow!”

“Bold of you to talk back to me from the extremely vulnerable position you’re in right now,” he threatens, and the effects of his words are felt right between her legs.

He grabs something else from his bag, then tells her to open her mouth before shoving a ball gag in there. He secures the leather strap behind her head.

“That’s better,” he says. “Should’ve done that ten minutes ago. Only thing your mouth is good for is sucking me off anyway. Isn’t that right?”

All she can do is glare at him with the gag in her mouth.

“Glad you agree, love,” he says with a cocky smirk.

A soft, plushy object is placed in her hand—the squeaky toy they use in place of the safeword when she’s bound and gagged. Then he folds his belt in half and gently glides the cool leather over her bum. As soon as he raises the belt, she tenses and screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first strike. When it doesn’t come, she relaxes a bit and opens one eye, falling for the same trick he’s used on her countless times.

The belt smacks against her ass. She cries out. A second smack makes her knees buckle, dragging her down a bit.

“Stay still,” he orders.

It’s a good thing she’s gagged because she definitely would’ve answered back with a snarky comment and made things worse for herself.

He whips her with the belt several times in a row. Her ass clenches around the plug each time. He pauses only briefly to run his hands over the bright red marks now decorating her backside, like an artist proudly inspecting his work. And then he’s back to belting her, occasionally aiming for the backs of her thighs. There’s no doubt that sitting will be a challenge tomorrow.

Tears stain the sheets beneath her while her cunt drips with arousal, the pain cathartic and excruciating at the same time. She comes somewhere between the punishing blows, too lost in the pleasure to keep count.

He eventually stops and tosses the belt aside, telling her to get up on the bed. It’s a little awkward with her hands cuffed behind her, but she manages anyway. Once again, he yanks her around like a doll until he has her in his desired position: lying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her hands are trapped under her but still free enough to squeak the toy if needed. He removes the gag from her mouth and instantly replaces it with his hard cock.

“Let’s put that whore mouth to good use,” he says as he begins fucking her mouth the same way he fucked her pussy earlier.

His tip connects with the back of her throat over and over, his large hands clawing at her breasts. He pinches and tugs at her nipples hard enough to make her body arch off the bed. Then he brings a hand to the front of her neck, squeezing it while his hips continue thrusting into her mouth. She presses her thighs together tightly.

Just when she thinks he’s going to come down her throat, he pulls out. She gasps for air. Finally, he takes off his own clothes and joins her on the bed, flipping her over onto her stomach. He uncuffs her wrists and cuffs them above her head instead, then lifts her up onto her knees and forearms.

She feels him tug on the base of the butt plug, fucking her with it a little before taking it out. He squirts a generous amount of lube between her cheeks and begins driving his cock into her ass but doesn’t get further than a couple inches. She’s too tense. It always seems to happen despite how many times they’ve done this.

“Gonna have to relax for me, love,” he says in the softest tone she’s heard him use all night. His hand caresses her lower back. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s shockingly aware of when she needs a gentle touch.

“Give me a minute,” she says, steadying her breathing before telling him to continue.

He pushes in a bit more, then draws back and pushes in again, going a little deeper every time. Once the tightness in her muscles eases, he slides all the way in and holds himself there.

“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck me.”

“Beg.”

Her mind is so muddled by the intense sensation of her hole stretching around his cock that she almost doesn’t hear the word.

“Huh?”

“Beg me to fuck your ass,” he demands.

That bastard.

“Fuck you,” she replies, though it comes out as more of a whine than an insult.

“I’m not moving an inch until you beg.” He grips her hips tightly to ensure that she can’t move either.

She doesn’t want to give in so quickly, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But as much as she hates to admit it, Harry’s dick makes her weak. And the worst part is he knows it too.

“Please, H, please fuck me. Your cock feels so good in my ass. I need you to fuck me hard and not hold back. Just— Fuck! Just use me for your pleasure. Please.”

Finally, Harry’s hips start moving. He retracts them, then thrusts forward sharply. She cries out in surprise and relief. He starts pounding into her. Quick, sharp thrusts. One after another. With little pause in between. She would reach down and rub her clit if her wrists weren’t bound together. Fortunately, Harry has the same thought. His hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles to speed up her orgasm.

She feels it crash over her moments later, igniting in her core and spreading outward to her limbs. Harry continues fucking her through it, not slowing down for a second. He tells her he’s going to come in her ass, calling her his good little cumslut and his perfect little fucktoy and every filthy word in the book, becoming more and more incoherent until he finally lets go with a deep groan.

Rolling over onto the bed, he frees her wrists and tosses the cuffs to the side, not caring where they land. Y/N lets her knees give out under her and falls onto her stomach with a soft thud. She closes her eyes. A while later, his fingertips graze the back of her shoulder.

“Hey,” he says softly, “you good?”

She opens her eyes and grins. “Yup.”

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“You know that’s how I like it.”

A pleased sigh leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the stray curls off his damp forehead.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says. “I really needed that.”

“Aww, you needed me?” she teases, knowing how much he despises the idea of “needing” anyone.

He scoffs and looks away, but not before Y/N can notice the blush creeping into his cheeks.

“You wish,” he grumbles.

“Whatever you say, tough guy.”

***

Thank you for reading!  MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #domrry #dom!harry #mean dom harry #fwb!harry #my writing

[allthelovehes]

Make You Mine* | TEASER

Summary: Harry and Y/N are FWB but when Y/N has plans with another man Harry gets extremely jealous.

Pairing: FWB!Harry x reader

Word count: 1.2K TEASER of a 5.2K Patreon Exclusive!

Warnings: Smut, sir kink, cum eating, just really hot ok.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

Support my work by joining my Patreon!

Ever since Y/N started this friends-with-benefits type of situation with her best friend Harry, they have been doing their best to keep their emotions in check. It's the same old story; it's fun and exciting, and then one or both of them ends up getting attached. They both know the deal, but it's too tempting to be together, and the sex is just so good.

They never agreed upon being exclusive but they also never explicitly told each other that they shouldn't have any other sexual partners. So now that Harry is busy working in the studio and therefore working most days of the week, he's starting to wonder if there's a chance Y/N might be seeing someone else.

He isn't stupid, he knows she has needs too, and he's sure she can find someone to take care of her whenever she needs it. The thought of her with someone else however is not a pleasant one. He isn't the jealous type, really, he's not. But still, the thought of her being with someone else makes him feel... strange.

He knows this isn't right, he's just being unreasonable. After all, they have never been officially exclusive, and she's allowed to fuck whoever she wants.

Harry's suspicions are confirmed when he texts Y/N to see if she's home tonight, he's desperate for some attention and hers is the only body he wants wrapped around him right now. He's met with an answer that is not quite what he's hoping for, and it makes him feel like he's just swallowed a bucket of cold water.

Y/N Can't tonight, I've got plans.

Plans. So it is another man then. She has plans with someone, and the worst part is, she didn't even tell him. She's never done that before, always kept him in the loop. Harry's chest tightens and his stomach starts to do flips. It's not jealousy, he tells himself, but it sure as hell feels like it. He doesn't even know for sure, how the hell can he be so upset?

Harry Plans huh? What's up?

He's trying his best to sound casual, but he's pretty sure he's failing. He's waiting for a text back, maybe she'll tell him. He doesn't have to wait long for an answer, which makes his heart sink even more.

Y/N I don't know if I should tell you

Shit. She's really going to make him ask then. He takes a deep breath and decides to bite the bullet.

Harry Is it a date then?

A little over a minute passes and his phone vibrates.

Y/N Depends

Harry On what?

Y/N On you

Harry swallows, his heart beating in his throat. He's not sure how to answer, his emotions are running wild, and he's starting to feel angry. She's got the answers he's desperate for, and she won't just give them to him. He feels the rage boil inside him and he just wants to go out there and confront her.

Harry Tell me Y/N

Y/N You'll either like it or not

Harry You know I'm not good at guessing games. Just tell me

Y/N Okay, fine It's not a date, but it is with a man

Harry And what does that have to do with me?

His hands are shaking, his heart is beating like crazy, and yet his stomach feels like it's somehow filled with butterflies. He can't believe he's having this conversation, but he really should have seen this coming.

Y/N I don't know. I mean, do I tell you about every single guy I see?

He feels his throat tighten, and his voice falters when he tries to form words.

Harry So you've slept with him

He knows that's not the kind of answer she's looking for, but he can't help it. He's too caught up in his own emotions and thoughts, and he's suddenly desperate to hear the words come from her own mouth.

Y/N No

Harry But you're going to

She's not stupid, she must be able to tell what he's thinking. He's not going to play this game with her, he wants an answer.

Harry Y/N?

A few seconds pass in silence, and Harry's heart rate rises.

Y/N Maybe

The air feels as though it's leaving his body, and he has to steady himself against the kitchen counter. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath.

Harry Oh okay

He can't bring himself to tell her to have fun. Instead, he just closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. He's feeling so many things, so many conflicting emotions, and he just doesn't know how to process them. He's trying his best to keep it together, but his insides feel like they're going to burst.

After a moment of silence, he opens his eyes again.

Y/N Why?

His head is spinning. He wants to go and tell her he doesn't want her to have sex with anyone but him, but he knows he can't do that. The thought of her having sex with someone else is driving him insane, but he also doesn't want her to think that he owns her. He doesn't know what to do.

Harry I don't know

He doesn't want to tell her about his feelings, it would make everything so much worse. He doesn't know if he can trust her enough to tell her the truth. After all, what if she tells him that she doesn't want to see him anymore, and they stop being friends? He knew starting this thing would lead to heartache, he just didn't think it would be on his side.

He decides not to tell her anything, and he locks his phone and sets it back on the counter. He heads to his room, but the anger and frustration inside him is just too much to be able to relax. He needs to let it out, somehow. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

He picks up his phone and starts typing out a text, but he erases it before he can send it. He can't tell her, he's just not ready. He's scared, and he doesn't want to lose her. He starts typing another message, but again he doesn't send it. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know how to handle this.

He paces back and forth through his kitchen before making a decision. He picks up his keys and phone and walks out the door. He knows exactly where he's heading, and he can't wait to see her.

He drives there as fast as he can, and when he finally gets to her apartment, he doesn't even bother knocking on her door, he just uses the key she gave him and lets himself in. The lights are on, and she's standing in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Her voice is calm, but Harry can see her hands shake ever so slightly, and her eyes are wide as she looks at him. He's probably the last person she was expecting to show up here.

“I came to see you.” He says, his voice wavering as he tries to catch his breath.

“I can see that, but why?”

He walks over to her and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and pressing his lips against hers. His hands find their way into her hair, and he presses her against the kitchen counter, his tongue pushing its way past her lips.

#smut #harry styles #fanfic #harry #styles #fanfiction #hot #one shot #imagine #writing #fwb #fwb!harry #best friends #best friend #besties #bestfriend!harry #bestfriend!au #jealous #jealous!harry #jealousrry #patreon #dirty imagine #harry x yn #harry x you #harryxyn #harryxyou #harryxreader #harry x reader

[bunnyteetharry]

Smart Girl

summary: harry comes and helps you during exam week at college with a happy twist

warnings: none?

pairing: fwb to lovers! + hockey player!arry (college based)

————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆

“No”

“I didn’t even say anything yet”

“Harry….”

The person who you were trying to avoid this whole week was leaning against your dorm room door frame with a huge smirk across his face

and his pretty dimples out in the open

You groaned and rolled your eyes “I already know what you want, and it’s not gonna be with me tonight. Go find some other girl to fuck, i on the other hand am busy”. He hummed crossing his arms giving you that oh so deceiving look with his eyes. “Busy with what exactly” you opened your door more widely to point across the room to your bed that is littered with text books and flash cards, highlights scattered on the floor from you stress throwing and your trash can filled to the brim with paper balls.

“I can help” he smiled widely “And what’s your idea of helping? Sitting there and looking pretty?” His eyebrow rose “You think I’m pretty?” his smirk was bigger than ever “Are you gonna help or not because I have a big exam this week and I’m not gonna let anything distract me from it, especially you” his smirk faded into a more serious expression and walked into your room, setting his bag on the floor and flopping onto your bed, patting the spot next to him “Well, aren’t you going to study” rolling your eyes you shut the door behind you

this was going to be an eventful night

As surprising as it seems, Harry was actually the most helpful, didn’t even crack a sex joke in the past hour, which would immediately earn him a gold star in your book. “Another correct! see, you’re going to ace this” you gripped your hair roughly “But what if I don’t, what if all of this becomes pointless by the end of the day, what if I choke and waste time, and what if-“ the feeling of soft lips hits your quickly, with Harry’s hand wrapped around your neck “Stop over thinking this….you’re gonna do great, you’re my smart girl” his voice was soft, Harry’s voice has different levels, in the matter of different situations yet he always was like this with you, never lying to get this end of the bargain, always bringing you snacks after the end of your classes to make sure your well nourished, filling up your water bottle up even when it’s halfway.

You didn’t understand what was going on between the two of you, neither did he. But ever since 5 months ago, he’s been following you around like a puppy dog at you beck and call, being named the campus play boy he’s quite the opposite once you get to know him

Smart girl. That’s what he’s been calling you since your first met in English class, at first you though he was just another jock who needed help with his work and you’d be paid off to get it done for him but once you were assigned as partners for a project, you met another side of him not many get to see, not even his hockey team mates.

You slowly started hooking up 3 months in, what became weird was the looks you’ve been getting

why would anyone like him be with someone like you, with the pressure of not being good enough and exam week beating your ass, you couldn’t face him anymore

“Why have you been dodging me like the plague” you lips parted them quickly shut, not willing to give him a full answer “I can’t Harry” you sighed not even daring to meet his eyes. His hands went up to your face, moving it to where you can face him “Talk to me” those eyes….always getting you every time.

“I don’t know how to live up to your level, you’re so close to going pro, you were raised up in the suburbs, never having to worry about the things where I’m-“ his thumb crossed over your lips “You’re perfect, that’s what you are. You’re enough, doesn’t matter what people say, you’re it for me. Once you’re my girl officially, you won’t have to worry about a thing, I’ll take care of you.” He brought you in closer, nudging your noses together “Harry” he hummed “What my love, hmm?” you peppered kisses softly all over his cheeks “Is this your way of telling me you like me?” He laughed lowly “Was bringing you snacks after class, checking up on you when you’re having a bad day, bringing you coffee every morning and dodging every girl on this campus to rush over here to fuck you not enough to tell you that I’m obsessed with you?” you shrugged and joke “Mm I don’t know, you probably say that to all your other hook ups” he hummed and nodded

“I haven’t been with anyone else but you since the day we met” you smiled looking down and messed with your cuticles “Not me, Me and Niall…damn does that guy know how to-ow!” Harry pinched you “That’s not funny” you smiled laughing almost out of breathe “Mm it was pretty funny, especially seeing you already planning in your head on how to murder Niall”

He kissed you deeply with a strong grip on your waist and neck “Mine, My smart girl” he grumbled between kisses, you giggled brushing his cheek with the pad of your thumb softly “M’yours Harry”

“Good, now that that’s settled let’s go get something to eat” he smacked your ass as you both got off the bed “I need to eat before I fuck you” you scoffed and laughed “And you just decided that on your own just now” you picked up your bag, putting it over your shoulder “Mhm” he grabbed his keys and motioned you out the door.

a/n: got a little sloppy towards the end cause I was running out of ideas but overall I’m happy with the outcome! hope you enjoyed as well <33

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harrys house #harry styles fanfiction #fwb!harry #hockey player au #hshq #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb

[skullsuited]

drunk & high.

gif credit.

an lhh!era/fwb!harry imagine that is simply riddled with pure filth, wine consumption & marijuana smoking. inspired by true events.

smut warning: some heavy degradation/dirty talk, daddy kink, hair pulling, p-in-v sex. this is just straight up porn without plot.

Maybe it was the red wine, perhaps it was the fact that you’d both drunk almost the entirety of the bottle.

It could’ve been the joint you two smoked. Harry always has good weed, it continuously blows your mind how pure and strong it is. 

Whatever it was, it had led you to this very moment. Your feelings of undeniable lust and mutual appreciation for one another, along with your inebriation and intoxication had found a home in your bodies and the scene you were in would be burned into your memory for the foreseeable future.

Your lower half is exposed, leggings and underwear pulled down just enough so Harry has access to your core. “Please…” You whine submissively, lying on your stomach as anticipation courses through your veins. You want him so badly and the state of your mind is only making him look ten times sexier than you usually find him. 

Harry towers over you, growling with dominance and desire as he grips your hips with one hand and guides his cock into your cunt with the other, emerald eyes gazing down at you from above. 

It’s clear he wants you just as much as you want him.

Your jaw slackens as he pushes inside of you, a gasp leaving your throat as his cock stretches you out in the familiar, practiced way it always has. After a few years of exploring each other’s bodies, you both are knowledgeable in how to make one another moan or render each other absolutely speechless – though, he’s the one who usually has you doing those things. 

Harry’s quick to lie on top of you, his chest pressed to your back as he begins to thrust slowly, heavy breaths and soft grunts leaving his raspberry colored lips. Your eyes meet and his hand tangles in your hair to maneuver your head, lips meeting yours in a sloppy-sweet kiss. 

It’s brief, a gradually growing makeout session that only lasts a few seconds, but you take it for what it's worth. Then he really starts fucking you. His hands find your hips and his torso is no longer pressed to yours, but the sight above you is almost mesmerizing; head thrown back, features screwed up in pleasure and concentration and all you can do is gape at him, watch as he takes you, takes you like you belong to him and only him. 

Your eyes shut, too lost in the pleasure you’re receiving from the man hovering above you. 

“D-Daddy, oh…” You moan, body moving like the sea’s tide, allowing yourself to relax and simply be fucked by Harry. One of his hands tangles in your hair again, pulling at it before pushing your head into the mattress, a low groan rumbling in his chest. 

You both move in quick succession, the wine and the weed impairing time and heightening pleasure as your bodies mold to each other, forgetting about the outside world or your duties as adults. Right now, in the safe space of his bedroom, the only thing and only people that matter are you and him and the art you’ve both perfected when it came to being sexual partners. 

Harry pulls out of you briefly, flipping you both onto your sides before pushing back into you. You can feel how wet you’ve gotten his cock, how wet you’ve gotten as he resumes fucking you, thrusting with fervor. His right arm is wrapped around your chest, keeping you pressed to his own, while his left hand is anchored to your waist, pulling your ass into him. 

“L-love taking your c-cock.” You speak, words broken by ecstasy. 

His lips are near your ear, “Yeah, take this cock you fucking cockslut.” 

Your hand finds its way in between your legs, preoccupying your fingers with rubbing your clit in fast, small circles. “Oh my God, oh my God…”

“Gonna cum for me, darling? Hm? Are you goin’ to cum on Daddy’s cock?”

“Yes- yes, fuck, Harry.” You babble, your free hand clawing at the arm he’s got wrapped around your chest. You aren’t quite sure how much time has passed since you initially started your tryst, but you do know that your impending orgasm is approaching rather quickly. “Want- want your cum. Want you to cum inside me.” You add, hopefully spurring his own release on. 

“Yeah? You want my cum?”

You nod jerkily, body shaking as your orgasm draws nearer. You are so close, but you don’t want to cum without him.

“Then take it.” Harry growls and before your brain can register it, you feel his cock throb inside you, his thrusts slowing as he empties himself. The feeling alone sends you into overdrive, your own release crashing down on you with intensity as you tense up, moaning his name like a mantra. 

“That’s it. S’ a good slut.” He murmurs, thrusting his hips languidly into you, fucking you slowly through your orgasm. Your fingers cease their movements once Harry stops his, your hand falling away from your clit. 

You both go quiet, breathing heavily as your climaxes dissipate and you wade in the post coital bliss. Harry pulls out of you gently before settling on his back, pulling your body into his. Your head rests on his chest and a smile pulls at your lips as his arm wraps around you, holding you close. 

“Can we do this again?” You ask, nuzzling your face into his chest a bit.

“I don’t see why not.” He replies. 

You nod, silence slipping over the moment as sleep pulls you both under. 

Perhaps getting drunk and high with Harry would become a whole new adventure.

#harry styles imagines #1d imagines #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #lhh!era #fwb!harry #lhh #1d smut #1d imagine #yes my real life inspired this 🥴 #mostly pwp

[paeries]

Sick of You — h.s.

[when a boyfriend of two years breaks it off and offers a new arrangement, of course you’ll take it up. this is your prime chance to prove him wrong. and Harry can’t bear to watch it]

word count; 9k

pairing; harry x reader

cw; friends to lovers au, smut, angst, im just saying my heart hurts for him

pov; y/n, but third person

[part two is here, part three is here, thank you for all the patience. im really excited for you guys xx]

She laid in her bed, blankets completely surrounding her as she tried to pay attention to the movie she had put on. She had everything she needed to enjoy her time by herself, really she did. But she felt like someone was stepping on her chest. Her heart felt like it had just been emptied out into the insides of her body. Just empty, throbbing, screaming. She was sure she’d gone through about three movies now, frantically searching for something, anything else to think about. She pulled her blanket up a bit further and glanced at her phone again. 1:24am. Had I really been staring at the wall for an hour and a half straight?

     She groaned and sunk deeper into the bed, pulling the pillow around her. I don’t even know what I was waiting for? Her alarm? The sun? Her eyelids starting to shut on their own? A text, you idiot. Remember? You’re hoping his date went shitty and she got too drunk and puked all over him. You were expecting him to be disappointed, send a message and ask for you to make up for it if he came over.  She grumbled, feeling whatever was going on in her chest expand and she felt her eyes prick with wetness. Y/N tried to shake her head, bury her fists into her eye sockets and beg the tears to go away. Tried to tell her brain, I’m fine, I’ll be just fine in the morning. I just needed some sleep. ”I need more wine.” She grumbled to herself, grabbing the bottle and tipping it upside down to swallow every drop of the last gulp. 

 

               At least you’re good for something. 

  

      That was what did it. That’s what sent her springing up off the bed and running to the bathroom to lurch over the toilet and empty her guts out. Over and over, till her body was too weak to hurl enough of anything, really, up and out of there. 

     He’s having a great time. He won’t need you much longer. It’s been over and you’re still a love sick puppy, fawning over his every move and hoping he miraculously realises that he made a mistake. That he didn’t mean any of what he said. 

     Y/N hung her head, defeated. Laying her forehead against the rim of the toilet, she sniffled and shook her head. “I should’ve pressed harder. I should’ve fought him a bit more.”

    You should’ve erased his number and ignored that text. You knew he didn’t want you anymore, just the pleasure you brought him. 

     She let out a cry, finally. Beating her fists off the porcelain tiles, she shouted as she cried. Letting her body crumple on the floor, she curled up, clutching her chest as she did, and cried and cried. 

She woke up the next morning, her head pounding, freezing from the coolness of the tiles. Had I really fallen asleep on the floor? She pulled herself up, took a pitiful look at her horrific appearance and shuddered.  She looked wrecked.

She pinched her brows together with one hand and reached over to turn the shower on, convincing herself that if she can at least manage to look better than she felt, maybe she could shake this nagging, nasty, haunting feeling. 

    About midway through her shower, she could hear someone moving about her apartment. Quickly finishing up but careful to leave the water on, just in case it was a burglar, or a murderer. She peered around the corner and felt as if last night was a dream. Because there he was, bopping around at 8 in the morning with coffees and a brown paper bag, as if he owned the place. “Excuse me?” She huffed out, blinking at him in disbelief. 

      Wonder what he’d think if he knew you’d spent the night on the bathroom floor ill, think he’d be so nonchalant? 

      She shook her head and stepped back to turn the shower off, wrapping a towel around her body before ducking into the room to dress herself. “You’re excused.” He mumbled to himself, snickering as he did so. As if he was so funny. “I brought some breakfast. You don’t take care of yourself.” He nodded to the state of her apartment, setting the to-go cups down on the kitchen table and tossed the paper bag next to them. “So, get dressed. Or don’t. Might save me the time.” He smirked. What the fuck does he know, ‘You don’t take care of yourself.’ What would he know about any of it? 

At least you’re good for something. 

     Her stomach lurched, and she managed to swallow whatever urge to run back to the bathroom and hide. She walked out of the room, pulling a t-shirt on and a pair of mens briefs with socks, wrapping her hair in a towelled turban to meet him in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” Y/N snipped, taking the coffee and finding her seat. “Were you not listening?” He asked, leaning with his back  against the doorway. She stayed quiet, trying her best not to make his gaze before daring to open her mouth again, “How’d your date go?” She managed out before taking a good sip. 

     Mark’s eyes narrowed a bit, suspiciously at her. Because how did she know?  “It was great. She was fun.” He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you really car-“ “Not really.” She interjected, “Just small talk. Since you didn’t answer my original question.” He sighed, swallowing before clearing his throat and straightening up. ''Well, if you want the truth-” He started and then paused, almost as if he was begging her to not let him finish. “She stayed the night..” He tested, watching her closely. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her shoulder blades. “And I thought I’d pop out and grab us something quick to eat while she slept but-” She coughed hoarsely and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “She was gone when you got back.” She finished, pulling the towel out of her hair and setting it on the back of a chair.

     Good. That’s what you get. 

    “Her coffee is good.” She admitted while shaking her head feeling nothing but pity for herself as she stood up to find a hairbrush. “I actually don’t know her order, I ordered what I thought you would.” He admitted, stepping across to open the paper bag to reveal two muffins as she made her way back to the kitchen while brushing her wet hair. “There’s a blueberry cobbler style and a blackberry cheesecake style. Thought it’s interesting enough to try.” He had been hoping that would take off the heat from the embarrassment of his good gesture to a one night stand. To someone else. “I’ve never heard of any muffin cheesecake.” She muttered, hesitantly reaching over to grab the blackberry speckled looking muffin. 

     Why am I eating a breakfast so hopefully meant for someone else who must have blown his mind when I can tell him to leave?

     “D’you get drunk last night?” Mark asked, pulling her from her thoughts and sending her into a frantic search for an explanation of the four wine bottles that laid on the floor. “Had some girlfriends over, s’all.” She said quickly, picking at the muffin in front of her. “Four bottles of wine?” He retorted, tutting a little bit. “Surprised they aren’t still strewn all over the floor. S’8:41 in the morning..” He added, seemingly having no clue it was all her. And granted it wasn’t four full bottles… It was two full ones and two half drank. “Yeah, well, they stopped drinking before I did- Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” She added in quickly, grabbing the coffee and looked directly at him. Her jaw clenched tightly as she watched his body uncomfortably shift where he stood. “Guess I could find something..” He said after a decently long pause, “Y’welcome, by the way-“ He chuckled, stepping out the door before she could shout back, “Hey,  fuck you!”  The door shutting right afterwards. She whimpered slightly, gritting her teeth together as she stared at the picked apart muffins that he left. For someone else. She threw the coffee into the sink and turned around, making a beeline for her phone and typing out, 

     “Come over.” Sent, Delivered. Read 8:49am

  Within twenty minutes or so, the front door was flung open and with four long strides, she had been tossed over his shoulder and carried into the bedroom.

Y/N had just enough time to change her briefs into a sweeter cotton thong with a strawberry embroidered at the top in front.  “Wait! Wait!” She laughed out, “You have to shut the front door!” She shrieked, her body now tossed to the bed, bouncing as she landed.

Watching him jog back to shut the door, she thought about the differences between the two men. Harry didn’t make the room feel as though the oxygen was being sucked up, like Mark did. She couldn’t breathe when he was around lately. Harry was more comfortable, and she'd be lying if she were to say she didn’t find herself wishing to have never met Mark to avoid this whole mess. She really wished it was Harry that gave her difficulty to breathe.

“Tha’ any better?” He asked, hands waiting at the door handle of her bedroom for her confirmation. “Much.” She laughed, rolling her eyes and sat up straight in her bed waiting to receive him again. 

He shut the door and came over to the bed, bringing his hand up to tuck a stray hair up and behind the curve of her ear. “Tickles.” She mumbled, hooking her fingers into the loops of his jeans. “Y’gonna help me or what?” Y/N huffed, tilting her head to the side as she challenged him. He raised a brow and lifted his hand to place at her chest to push her back against the bed. “Yeh, I’ll help y’” He mumbled, pushing her shirt up her ribcage, peppering kisses here and there.

She stared up at the ceiling while bringing her hand to the back of his head, aimlessly swiping her thumb across the short hair that laid at the nape of his neck. She couldn’t stop thinking about Mark and Harry, Harry and Mark… Harry… “Harry…” She mumbled, squirming in her place on the bed. Harry groaned, digging his hips into the mattress before slowly lifting his head, eyebrows furrowed with concern once he saw her expression. “Y’okay?” He asked, sitting up a bit. No matter how turned on he could get, her wavering voice brought him back to earth. “S’the matter?”

She swallowed and shook her head, “N-nothing, I- I just,” Her voice trailing off as tears began to prick at her eyes again. Harry reached up and cupped her cheek, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, we’ll get y’straightened out.” He muttered with distaste in his tone of voice.

     She sat up to pull her shirt off, shivering as she felt his hands sneak up to touch a nipple, nipping at the skin under her belly button. “H-'' She warned, giggling breathlessly, “Y’know that’s ticklish.” He gave a quiet hum and nodded, “Couldn't help m’self. It’s just too easy, pet.”

The coyness in his voice sparked an annoyance she couldn’t place. It held the same sarcastic, ‘i know it all’ tinge as Mark’s did when he was strolling about her kitchen.  She huffed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Do I have to do this myself?” She sniped, “Could get m’self off without all this fuss much faster y’know?” Harry's gentle eyes quickly hardened as he now glared at her, bringing his hand up and around her throat, laying her back down against the bed. Her breath hitched in her throat as he applied some pressure, almost immediately regretting her choice of action. “Let’s be clear, shall we? Nothing that you do, or anyone else for that matter, to your body,” He trailed off, his tongue darting out over his lips as he looked at the girl's smaller frame underneath him. “Could ever, ever, amount to what I can do.” He murmured into her ear, releasing his grip around her throat before sponging kisses down her neck. “Wouldn’t you agree?” He hummed, taking a more sensitive part of her neck gently between his teeth to earn a moan from her lips.

 He hadn’t meant to get so possessive, but he was tired of not getting the recognition he felt he deserves. There was no way Mark had ever taken the time to know her body in the way he has. 

She nodded quickly, rolling her hips up to meet his, “Yes." She breathed out, moving a hand into his hair to tug at. She was getting impatient, the slow side of him wasn’t what she needed. She needed him deep, hard and quick.

“Harry, please” She whined out, groaning in frustration as he pinned her hips back to the bed. He chuckled against her, letting his teeth graze over her nipple before lifting his head. “S’the matter, Y/N?” He mused, raising his brows in mock sympathy, trailing a hand down to duck into the front of her panties. “I’ve had y’wetter than this before, m’sure of it.” He muttered to himself, sliding his fingers through her folds before circling once around her clit, causing her to gasp and lift her hips up at the sudden contact. “No! M’ready, Harry, please.” She begged, squeezing her eyes shut from the anticipation. “Not quite, pet- Open your eyes.” He ordered, taking them both by surprise. He had been too focused on the sounds his fingers were making as they slid through her to notice her eyes closing. He liked to know she saw that it was him, not Mark. All him. 

Y/N whined again and lifted her head, wriggling her hips. “Fuck, H. Please?” She begged again, bringing her hand up to cup his leaking cock through his boxers. His hips spluttered forward and he swore under his breath before swiftly changing his position on the bed to get between her legs to tug her panties off. 

Peeking up from where he lies to catch her line of sight, Harry stuck his tongue out slowly towards her clit, stopping just before he made contact. With pupils dilated, a pout graced across her face and cheeks flushed, Harry could have come right then if he hadn’t been so driven to making his point clear. Kissing at her thigh once, he flattened his tongue out and rolled her clit beneath it slowly. Far too languid for Y/N because now she can’t even lean into his mouth, but has to take the brush and nip of his teeth against her until he granted enough mercy to find her clit again and move a little faster.

Harry hears her begin to pant, quick and shallow, and the sighs and whimpers that are begging for him to ‘Please, fuck me, Harry' He smiled, tightening his grip around her hips, “M’getting there, sweetheart. Want you drenched by the time m’finished.” He reasons, cock twitching when she lets out a desperate groan. Harry ignored the small and desperate cries of frustration, drawing back to watch her wriggle and whine for his touch. He hummed, bringing his middle finger closer to slip into her cunt and felt his lips spreading into a grin at the moans that erupted from her chest as he found her g-spot. Before long, he found himself biting down harshly on his lip as he watched his finger dip in and out so easily that he added another, stretching her out a little more. He loved how messy she could get for him in hardly any time at all. “Relax.” She heard him say calmly, though his mind is a frantic mess of filthy thoughts about how he planned to fuck her anyway she’d let him. Desperate for her to realise who she was to him. He’d never tire of hearing her sweet moans, the way she begged for him to touch her. And every time he found out she went back to him, he would swear to himself, he’d find a way to make her forget about him. He wanted to be unforgettable, like it seemed that Mark was. Who, really didn't have the most fun hobbies, or good humour, didn't mesh well with the group; he wasn't even that intelligent in his opinion. So he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was soo special about him. They’ve all hung out, and Harry tried. He really tried to pinpoint what was so incredible about him in her mind. He’d have to top him somehow, something that reminded her of him had to creep into her thoughts at night. He wanted her as restless as he was without her at night. He wanted her to figure out that he was her safe place. 

When she went quiet, his stomach burned hot enough to pull him out of his thoughts, he knew she was close. He let out a groan, burying his face into her thigh to muffle most of it before turning back to lull her clit back around his tongue. Sucking on it in sharp little movements, he reaffirmed his left arms grip around her thigh to keep her in place. “Harry!” She gasped out, as he pulled his fingers out so he could wrap his hand around his weeping cock, aching for any form of attention and hissed against her when he felt it. He was leaking and it was filthy, so filthy and Harry couldn't stop himself from gruffly nipping at her clit. “Come for me, pet.” He mumbled as he moved his hand from around his cock to preserve himself, moans muffled against her and even more so when her thighs closed around his head and she pressed up into his mouth. She’s coming and the thought of it has Harry rolling his hips into the mattress harder. 

“Fuck sake-” He growled, pushing himself upright to hook his arms under her legs to pull her closer. He took a long look at her body, returning a hand to his angry red cock to try and curb his lust a while longer. He wasn’t done teasing her. “It made her feel important, it’s like extra attention,” she told him one night. 

“Proper mess down here, babe.” He tutted, backing up as her hips lifted to meet his. “Now, now, now, y’still comin down, aren’t you? S’quite sensitive, innit” He mused, tapping the head of his cock against her swollen clit. She gasped, lifting her hips up again. “Seeee?” He hummed, mocking her. “Please, Harry. M’empty.” She whined, and that was it. “Okay, ‘lright, she wants filled.” He hummed as he loomed over her, tucking his head against hers while he lined up, gently nudging past her folds to slip in. “Jesus Chr-” He groaned, his hand finding its way into her hair to tug. “Fucked right in, didn’t I?” He mumbled, sliding his hand to cradle her neck by the hairline, which was irritatingly soft, as he pulled out slowly and tried his best to ignore her protests; “I was full!” She’d gasp out, infuriated that he had taken it away just as quickly. “Fuck sake, doll. Patience.” He rasp out as he pushed right back into the wet heat. “Y’hear that, baby? S’how wet I’ll get you everytime, isn’t it?.” He mused, straightening up and tugged her body up higher to meet his hips, allowing himself to slide just a bit deeper. Deep enough to coax another broken gasp from her mouth. “Tell me how good this is.” He breathed out, before delivering some quick thrusts, his hips pistoning into her. A filthy sloshing sound filled the air from how wet she was. “Fuck!” She gasped out, arching her back up. “Oh my god, Harry. S’good, s’deep, j-just what I wanted.” She whimpered, squeaking as he bottomed out at her admission. She whined in confusion, before choking on a breath when he rolled his hips, grinding into her cunt. The broken moan he finally let out as her walls fluttered around him, squeezing around his cock, could put a priest to shame. She always wrung out the most lewd noises from his body. “My God, you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned, “You feel so fucking good, Y/N, squeezin' me li' tha'.” He all but whimpered, leaning back to properly start fucking her, the way he knows has her seeing stars, her legs shaking, her breathing laboured. 

Louder, and louder she got, gripping onto his forearms with her nails dug in as deep as they could go, trying desperately to hold on in the position he had her in. His long body upright, hands holding her hips up high off the bed so he could make sure he hit his target each time. Her shaking legs wrapped around his, she was struggling under the pleasure. “S’a fuckin’ sight t’see, baby. You’re so bloody beautiful.” He said, taking her hand away from under his arm to bring it to his mouth, sponging kisses at her fingers and wrist. “Takin’ my cock so well.” He sighed, letting her hand go and lowered her hips back down before hovering over her shaking body, placing her thumb at the corner of her mouth. What he did not prepare for, was her tongue to slide out around it to bring into her mouth and suck at. Harry’s jaw dropped, his lips parted as his hips lost their rhythm for a few thrusts. “Look a’ tha’.” He gasped out, just as she let out another delicious moan, “Harry, m’close.” She slurred around his thumb, some drool running down his wrist. “Dirty lit’l minx, come f’me.” He growled, feeling her tighten completely around him. “Give it to me, ‘ve worked for it” He breathed, snapping his hips up harder as she cried out, rolling her hips messily to his just trying to ride it out. “Tha’s my good girl.” Harry cooed, doing his best to help her get the most of her orgasm before losing his self control entirely, burying himself to the hilt as he came. Falling forward on top of her, he felt the coiling in his belly unwind. He sighed, listening to her breathing soften and slow. “Proud of m’self for that one.” He laughed out. And he was, she was satiated, and he got to have a bit more of her for one more day.

     Harry's soft breath hit the top of her shoulder, his body on top of hers with the duvet cover strewn between his legs. Taking a deep breath, she felt most of the stress and anxiety of Mark's pop-in drift away. Shifting to find a comfortable spot against the bed while underneath the warmth of his body. “I don’t think I thank you enough.” She mumbled, tucking her forehead into the crook of his neck. “Think you thank me just fine.” He smirked, lifting up onto his elbows. “Up y’get, sweetheart.” He grumbled, pulling them both up, him standing to pull his boxers back on. “H, would you grab me a shirt from my second drawer down, please?”  She asked, the covers pulled up to her chest with one hand, the other running a hand through her messy hair.

She watched as he grabbed a shirt, unfolded it to see what it looked like in full before tossing it her way. “Like that one.” He snickered, climbing back into the bed. “Know y’don’t wanna talk about it. But…” He started, causing her to groan as she pulled the shirt over her head. “Oh christ,” She whined, laying back down and pulled the covers over her face. “C’mon, I never ever ask!” He laughed, tugging the covers to reveal her eyes which only earned him a grumble of disagreement. After a brief pause (during which she realised he wouldn't give in anytime soon), she rolled her eyes and hastily blurted out, “He went on a date last night, and in the morning, I was showering and he showed up, breakfast in hand. Tells me it was originally for the girl he went out with and fucked, only, come to find out she slipped out while he was at the shop,” She paused, drawing another breath but speaking a bit slower. Not particularly liking the way her tongue had formed around them. Like tasting metal. “aaand brought it to me instead.” She murmured, swallowing thickly, “Like it was a good thing.” Laying it all out in summary had her feeling more embarrassed by the second. Harry groaned, shaking his head. “Why’d’y’ put up with it? Why don’t you just- block his number?” His voice going a bit softer towards the end before he sighed, knowing exactly why.

She stayed quiet, looking back up to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t you? Put up with it?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt shame come over her, like a cloud across the sun. 

     Harry sighed again, rolling onto his back to look at the ceiling too. I do, put up with it. He thought, his eyes scanning the ceiling for a good answer. “Don’t think you’d have to, had he given you the chance to move on.” He muttered, almost angrily. “Wasn’t right of ‘im. T’break things off and then ask the next night for a quick fuck.” He huffed, propping himself up on his elbows again. 

     Y/N sighed and nodded, “I know..” A few minutes went by before she shook her head, desperate to change the subject. “Look, can we just watch something?” She mumbled, pulling the duvet up over her waist. “Yeah… yeah sure.” Harry said, reaching over for the remote to turn the tv on. “Found something that might be good the other night. Saved it to watch it with you.” He snickered, coaxing a smile out of her. “I can’t wait.” She hummed, turning to her side to curl up against him. His arm snaked around her waist, his head tilted to rest against hers and he took a deep breath. For the next two hours, they just laid there. I really should thank him more often, she thought.

      “Listen, not that I wouldn’t love to stay longer, I just promised m’mum I’d take her out for dinner.” He said once the movie was over, leaning over to kiss her forehead again. “Y’okay?” He asked again, and she smiled, propping herself up as well.

“Because I can manage another fifteen minutes before I need to shower, change and pick her up.” He added, his eyebrows straightening into a line to show the severity of what he was saying. “I’ll be available until about 4, we usually do a bit of catching up- probably bout an hour or so, y’know what- I’ll just text you.” He laughed. “Yeah, I’ll manage.” She hummed, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Call me, anytime. Mean it.” He said, standing to get himself dressed, Y/N standing as well to walk him out. 

“G’on.” She snickered, leaning up to kiss his cheek before he stepped out of the flat, shutting the door behind him. She sighed, reaching up hesitantly to lock the door, before taking another pitiful look at the picked apart muffin that still sat on that table. Mocking me. She scoffed before going back to her room to repeat the night prior. 

She’d always been used to being alone, just not lonely. She had friends, sure, and good friends at that. But they’ve all got so much going on, she couldn’t imagine bringing her little broken heart to the table and try to put it up there with Jodie’s, who’s unsure where she’s going to get the extra 5k to keep her dead mothers house from going to the bank. It just wasn’t right. 

     You’ve got all day, miss thing. Best find something to do with it. 

She glanced at the time again, and took a look around her apartment.  The bottles, the empty cigarette packs on any windowsill you look at, chinese takeout boxes, the dishes, the bottles. Groaning at the thought of doing all that, she let her body fall back into the chair in the living room. 

Pinching her brows together, she let out a frustrated sigh, “I see you, just let me gather herself.” She said to herself, and only when she moved her hand from her eyes did they land on a small little jar and its green contents on the coffee table. Perfect. Blunt time. 

 Once she got a small little blunt rolled up, she put some music on and sat on her bedroom windowsill, grabbing a lighter to take a drag. While making sure to blow it out the cracked open window, she peered down to the streets below. A cold breeze came across her nose, reminding her that the seasons changed once again. A colder fall meets eastern England with a ferocity, signalling a chilling winter to come. Couples walked through the streets to make their dinner reservations, or ‘first daters’ even, chatting as they window shop. She always loved watching the world around her operate.  Sighing yet again as she reminded herself that she was supposed to finish cleaning, she sat up, leaving the blunt on the ashtray a second to get to tidying the bed up. Smoking always puts her in a better mood. A nice distraction, she thought as she set the pillows and blankets back into place. She crept over to pick the blunt up and take another hit before pushing it into the ashtray to snub the cherry. “Christ, what time is it?” She said aloud, deciding to dig around for her nightstands clock that had been knocked to the ground. Finding it and setting it back in place, she was thankful that 6pm was here. She had gotten the apartment tidied, she was high as hell. There was no trace of anything Mark to be seen. Like he’d never been here so early. I wonder if he was sad. Upset that he’d put himself out there and assumed she’d stay for breakfast. She didn’t see how different it could be with hi- She cringed to herself and shook her head, trying to shake the train of thought away. She didn’t want to go back down the road, try to find out where exactly it went wrong. He left. He’s no different than the rest. And what’s worse, he takes advantage of the fact. He knows how you feel. 

The streets were alive and well, lit with streetlights, some storefront lighting, and car headlights. Daring a glance over at her liquor cabinet, she grabbed her phone and called some friends to get together for drinks in her newly cleaned apartment in order to carpool together to the bar.

Jodie arrived first, her best girl, Cade trailing just a bit behind her, “Daphne’s on the way, she said she had a last minute outfit change.” Jodie explained, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek as she handed over her gift of liquor for the night. “S’always vodka with you.” Y/N grinned, heading to the kitchen to get some mixers. 

“Harry’s out with his mum but he said he’d meet us there.” She nodded in acknowledgement to Cade who was reading what she assumed to be Harry’s response in the groupchat, bringing out cups and ice. Cade was fairly new to the group, but a welcomed one at that. They had lost Julie and Chris to a new move up country, which was a huge blow to their outings for a while. Cade filled the gap seamlessly, he was hysterical, dependable, not to mention outlandish. Cade had never been one to back down from a challenge, and seemed to be crushing heavily on Jodie for a while, so if by tonight they were to get a little more familiar with one another, Y/N wouldn't complain.

Daphne came trailing in not long after them, setting her coat in the closet before greeting us all. “So sorry, had it all figured out, but- you know, the lighting in the bar wouldn’t have worked the correct magic. Had to change.” She explained, beaming ear to ear as she made her way into the apartment, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Everyone knew that whatever Daphne put on, a burlap sack, aluminium foil, a fucking bedsheet, she looked gorgeous. She had a million dollar smile, a sense of humour, honey blonde hair, olive coloured skin and an incredible body. And if we’re being truthful, her and Harry would be the obvious match. Their physical appearances complimented the other so effortlessly. They’d even been caught in a drunken makeout once before, back when Harry first joined the group.  Nevertheless, Daphne was the secret weapon. The three of them together were like a wet dream turned nightmare. And though Y/N’s friendship with Daphne wasn’t as close as with Jodie, she still held a significant spot in her life. They’d all known each other since university, just kids. Daphne had an atrocious haircut and didn’t know how to dress her body to save her life. Jodie was so smart and shy, it wasn’t until Mike came around their senior year where she learned to assert herself and let loose. Y/N, herself, was just happy with her two girls. She never looked elsewhere. They’d go to parties and end up back at one of our dorms, trashed and giggly. What else was there? 

Looking at them together now, you’d never guess how reserved they used to be in their younger days.

By the time they ordered the Uber, they had all worked up a pretty nasty buzz which made it quite difficult to figure out where they had ended up leaving our phones, wallets, keys, etc. Poor Cade did his best to wrangle the girls together and keep track of all the belongings, but to no avail. He’d have to try again next time. “I saw yours in the bathroom, Jod.” Daphne giggled out, lifting up Y/N’s phone and frowning before handing it to her. “Why’s Harry texting you? Can he not make it?” She asked, a pout clear on her lips. 

“Uhhh, dunno- let’s see.” Y/N opened her phone to check the message, ‘Dropping mum off now. See you in 30. Xx’ she repeated out loud for her even though Daphne had already peered over her shoulder. “He texts you a lot.” She states, pursing her lips and opening them again before Jodie interrupted, “Got yours, Daph!” She shouts, grinning and Y/N has to send her a look of relief because she was not prepared to break Daphne’s drunk heart tonight. She had always had the suspicion she still liked him, and if the look on her face didn’t cement that, what would?

Y/N’s phone rang in the middle of her conversation about Cade’s poor choice of beer as the four sat at a booth, “M’gonna go get a real drink. Be right back.” She smiled, lifting the phone to her ear as she walked away. “Hello?” “What are you doing tonight?” His voice slid across the speaker like cashmere. Y/N swallowed thickly, pressing her finger to her ear to drown out the outside noise. “I’m busy.” She shouted over the music, then rolled her eyes. He had to have heard the music. He’s not stupid. 

“Y’don’t have to yell.” He laughed, “C’mon ditch it. We’re callin’ it a night, so… Come over.” He drawled out. Great, he’s drunk. “No, thank you.” Y/N hummed, having already snuck into the bathroom where it was a bit quieter. “And why not?” He huffed, and just from knowing him, she could tell that his jaw dropped, his fingers tapping against whatever was nearest. “Because,” She paused, fixing a few fly aways while looking at her reflection in the mirror.  “I’m having more fun here.” She giggled before hanging up, and dug into her purse to grab a comb she had brought. 

Her phone rings again, and she felt the satisfaction begin to creep its way into her. This must be what it feels like for him. She cleared her throat and picked up the drink she had set down on the sink. “Hello?” She sang, making sure to jostle her drink that was now more ice than liquid. “I need another drink, so, hurry-“ She added, smirking at herself in the mirror and wrapped her lips around the straw to suck the last bits of alcohol left. “Wh’dya’ mean you’re having more fun?!” He huffed, as if it was unimaginable to him. Y/N scoffed, topping up her lip colour before turning on her heel to go back out to the bar. “Just what I said.” She hummed, “I’m hanging up now,” She whispered before hearing a slew of small half-minded minor threats, asking her not to hang up, ‘wait, wait, wait!’, She ignored them all, giggling out a ‘good night’ before hanging up again and leaving the bathroom. Finding her way through to the bar and grabbed herself two more drinks before making it towards the back where her friends had sat.

Thankfully, Harry had got out of his date with his mum just in time to meet them at The Stumble. And she was semi-glad he did. Well, very glad. He helped in a lot of ways. And he was just nice in general to be around. Harry smiled at the sight of her, opening an arm to invite her back into the circle.

 “Daph’s just getting around to tellin’ us her big secret.” He hummed, his eyes lingering just a litttttllleee too long at her body. He couldn’t help it. And he did try. But his eyes just found their way to her every time. Good God, she looked amazing. A black half mesh/half satin dress that was somehow modest and managed to leave a bit to the imagination, some sort of strapped black heels that snaked their way up her legs, a softened reddish lipstick. Honestly, out of a dream. Once, of course, he realised her attention had been taken away by Daphne,(who (he thought) was getting around to telling everyone about her job’s promotion) he felt he could look at Y/N as long as he needed. He knew Mark wasn’t stupid. He’d figure out how special she was, and how truly stupid he was to have let her slip through his fingers. How fucking lucky he was- To have had her. Really have her. And sure, he had her too. As close as he could muster, he had her, for now. He answered her calls, day or night, 1am, 2am, 3am, cor. 3am was probably his favourite time. She was so sleepy, so hurt, she had just wanted company. And Harry liked to think she wanted his company. Just thinking about how he had thrown it away? Like, garbage? How fucking dumb he is to- Harry’s jaw clenched so hard it began to cramp, and the hand he didn’t know that was laid across the small of her back had found its way around her hips, gripping the far side of her waist tightly, causing her to yelp and turn around. “S’the matter w’you?” She laughed out, her hand delicately holding the straw in place with two fingers as she brought her lips around it for a sip with her other hand. Those, fucking lips. He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Lost m'balance- Liquor must’ve hit me.” He laughed, “S’hot in here, gonna pop outside for a smoke.” Harry nodded, gently patting her back as he slid past her.

      He could feel his ears ringing, like smoke was coming out of them. He’d really like to tell Mark just what a total degenerate he had been, but, it may knock too much sense into him. And he’d never have Y/N again. He needed some more time. You can’t do that, she’s hurt enough. She’ll just have to wisen up. And then Mark won’t have the chance. 

    Finally, the cool air hit Harry’s face, his hands scrambling through his pockets for his pack and a lighter. 

     The first drag was all he needed, just to turn his brain around. With a sigh, he blew out the smoke, leaning his body against the side of the bar’s building. He watched people pass, people scoot past him to get inside the bar. He watched a small family walk up to a newly parked food truck. Kinda late for food trucks, innit. He thought to himself, raising his hand for another drag and immediately felt a comforting and familiar hand at his shoulder. Y/N. 

      “Wh’y’ doin out here?” He asked, looking down at her. She had to be a little cold. Mind you, shes again only wearing her slim dress, the damn strappy snaky heels- No jacket. As always. “You’ll freeze.” He muttered, pulling his off to drape around her shoulders. “Thank you, Harry, but I’m alright. Just checking on you.” She said warily, knowing full well that he hardly ever would leave in the middle of someone’s proud moment to go smoke. That just wasn’t like him. “Are you upset Daphne’s moving?” She asked, reaching for his cigarette to take a drag of her own. Moving? “Er- yeah, I mean-“ He stuttered, unable to recover. His stupid brain was still fixated on her lips. “Because there’s a train that connects right to our station- and she said she’d be here any and every time she could manage. She said she couldn’t stay away from you too long.” Y/N nodded, a hopeful glimmer in her eye. Harry furrowed his eyebrows at her, “She- what?” Now he was so confused. “Daphne’s like- in love, with you Harry. You really never knew?” Y/N laughed out, and it sort of pissed Harry off. Like it was so obvious for her to see that someone else was in love with him, but not see that he was in love with her. Of course he never knew, because he’s been so busy trying to soothe Y/N and get her to see what was in front of her. Course he wasn’t worried about, Daphne, of all things. “No, I didn’t know-“ He almost snapped, irritated with it all now. “Oh my God, Harry! She drools!” Y/N giggled out, shaking her head and finishing off her drink. “Never stops looking at you, and! She glares at me when we’re talking.” Harry could tell by how her eyes began to glaze over that she was feeling the effects of her drink. Realising, it wasn’t fair to get angry with her. “Drools, huh?” He managed out in a chuckle, his throat feeling tight, like he was swallowing nails. She nodded and hummed, “She saw our texts, Har. Should’ve seen her face, she really likes you.” She slurred a bit, leaning up to his ear, “I know I shouldn’t..” She started, humming a bit before she sighed out, “I can’t stop thinkin’ bout y’ kissing me.” She whispered, giggling at the end. Harry had to shut his eyes, squeeze them shut. In another world, Harry would’ve laid it on her, right then and there. No regard for the outside world around them. His hands made their way to the small of her back, briefly pulling her in closer. “Y/N…” He warned, “We’re supposed to be keeping it a secret.” He mumbled back, his mouth felt like it was bleeding. He wasn’t able to say anything that he wanted to. But, he would have a hard time forgiving himself if whatever was so bad about being with him had to be kept quiet and had come out. She’d never be back. Harry felt like he had the devil and the angel on either shoulder. The angel, reminding him how delicate she’d been lately, all the while in his left ear, he could hear the devil asking him to breathe her in. Because she did smell fantastic. She whined and tugged at his shirt, pouting a bit with a soft, “Why?” And Harry lost it. All sense was gone, he let out a frustrated growl of sorts and gave one gentle yank to her hair to tip her head back, causing her to yelp and smirk at him.  Why? Why indeed. In one second, Harry had pressed his lips to hers, backing her up against the building, his hands moving so fast. Too fast. Her cheeks, her hair, her waist, her ass. Christ, what a sweet little ass she had. Harry groaned into her mouth, licking at her lip like honey fell from it. Y/N giggled in response, hooking an arm around his neck, her hand at the back of it. He was revelling in the freedom he was feeling to publicly have her in his arms. Harry felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, and just as he was about to muster enough control to pull away from her, “What the fuck are you doing?” with a quick jerk away from the beautiful woman. Mark.

“So, you’re fucking Harry? Harry?!” Mark shouted, his breaths coming out short but forceful. He was pissed, thats for sure. Y/N glared at him, having to lean against the clubs bathroom sink after he dragged her inside.  “I don’t know why it’s any of your business.” she snapped, “We aren’t together anymore, that was your decision.” Mark's head snapped up at her, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed, “That doesn’t mean I’d be alright with you and one of my good friends fucking?!” He shouted, pulling at his hair as if he was going insane. "I'd hardly call you guys friends." She scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, “And, forgive me if I never received the handbook on what to do if your ex breaks up with you but still wants to fuck, oh! And! fucks other girls only to bring you their breakfast the next morning!” She shouted back, furious at him. “I shouldn’t even be having this argument with you, because in what world did you think it would be okay to come to the bar I was at!” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. If Harry hadn’t been there, and Mark had walked through that door while she was drunk? She knew he would’ve walked through that front door and all she’d be thinking of, was which girl he’d take home the whole night. It was fun for a second to give him a taste of his own medicine but he was much, much better at this than she was.

     Mark hadn’t stopped pacing, his fingernails practically embedding themselves into his palms due to how tightly he had his fists balled up. It took everything in him not to throw Harry in front of a moving car after he ripped him away from Y/N. Out of everything, not once did he expect to have walked up on…. whatever that was. He couldn’t believe that it was Harry that had his hands around her like that. “Okay, well,” He started, his eyes dancing around a minute, “If you had said you wanted to suck Harry’s cock tonight when I was on the phone with you, maybe,” He seethed, his voice dripping with anger, “I’d have gone home!” He growled out, unsure of what he wanted to do now. His pride had taken a major plummeting fall. Y/N. His heart throbbed, painfully in fact. “Oh,” She scoffed out, “Please, you’re lucky I answered the phone at all! It’s none, of your, business!” She repeated, leaning forward a bit as she did. Mark laughed incredulously, “That would have been better, Y/N. Because then you wouldn’t have tried to play your little cat and mouse game, get me to think you wanted me here, and we wouldn’t be here!” He shouted, his arms opening up to gesture to the space of the bathroom. 

“My cat and mouse game?!” She practically laughed out, leaning forward a bit. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Ever since you broke up with me, it’s been nothing but games! You ended it because all I was good for was a fuck! Don’t forget that.”  He went quiet, the only sound was the softened thump of the music from the club. Y/N swallowed thickly and straightened up, “Are you done?” She muttered, “Because I have some friends waiting on me.” 

Mark scoffed, shaking his head, “Yeah, think I am.” 

So off she went, without another look at him. She slipped around the corner and hurried off to the corner where her friends were at. “And where’s Harry?” Y/N asked, looking around and not seeing a particular set of eyes. She was beyond irritated and feeling the embarrassment creeping up on her. The way they all looked at her told her that they had seen, everything. She shuffled in her spot slightly before straightening up and grabbing her bag. “Y’ears not workin’? Something trapped in em’?  I said where the fuck is Harry?” She snapped, watching a few scramble for answers. “He-He never- he didnt-“ Cade stuttered, sighing in relief as Daphne finished for him, “He never came back in.” Y/N groaned before turning on her heel to head out as well. Poor Daphne. She began hurrying down the street to get away from the club as fast as possible, scrambling for her phone and immediately dialed out Harry’s number. No answer. 

   To: Harry 

      Where did you go?

      They saw everything. 

      I’m trying to call you, Harry, please. 

                  Read 9:57pm

   She tried his number, again, no answer.

    Finally flagging down a cab, she hopped in and gave his address without a second thought. The whole drive there, she went over the last twelve hours or so. She couldn't believe the way Mark was acting. Of all the dumbest, insulting things to do or say, showing up at random times. The fucking nerve. He knows how she feels, and yet, he uses it whenever his poor ego needs a pick me up. And then to embarrass her, and possibly Harry as well? Because he can’t stand to feel unimportant? 

    The driver came to a slow, rolling stop and she quickly paid the driver before hurrying up his driveway, to the steps to his apartment and began rapping her cold knuckles painfully against the door. Please be here. Please be here. Embarrassment washed over her again like a tidal wave. She felt awful, anxious, the whole bid. He could have a girl here. And then if he didn’t go home?  Who was she to assume she single-handedly ruined his night? His neighbours assume she’s on drugs and call the police- And then! Her drivers went and drove off- his neighbours think she’s crazy… Cor, Y/N. You’ve really thought this one out. Just brilliant.

As she turned to pull her phone from her pocket to call up another driver, she heard a jingle of house keys coming up the drive. Her head snaps up to see Harry, who was having a bit of trouble walking a straight line as he focused on looking at his keyring, trying to find the front door’s match. “Wh- Harry!” She breathed out, blinking in disbelief. Harry’s head snapped up, his eyebrows furrowed and grumbled a bit. “What’re y’doin’ ‘ere, Y/N?” He muttered sadly, trying to move around her but gently bumping into her shoulder instead as he made his way around. “Don’t think ‘ve got it in me t’help,” He hiccupped and tried to fit the key into the hole before starting again, “help y’out tonight.” He whimpered, resting his forehead against the door after struggling. Y/N frowned and hurried up the steps again, taking the keys from him. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” She asked, fitting the key in and opening the door for him.

His shoulders slumped forward, grumbling his answer as he shuffled into his house. Choosing to ignore the drunken gibberish, she moved towards the kitchen to grab him a glass of water, watching as he fell backwards into his couch. 

As she turned the corner to set his glass down on the coffee table, he, again, muttered something she couldn’t understand. “What was that?” Y/N asked, sitting down next to him. He sighed and leaned forward, “Went to a, uh- different bar.” He breathed out, taking the glass of water for a sip. “F-for a few drinks, t’clear m’head.” His fingers tapped at the glass before lifting the glass to his lips again. “I-I shouldn’t ‘ve…” He sighed and shook his head firmly, ending his sentence there before continuing again. “Y’asked why I hadn’t err…. answered y’phone, or, my phone.” He grumbled, feeling frustrated he couldn’t get a good explanation for her. “I thought you were heading back wiv’im.” He whispered, chewing at the inside of his lip to stop himself from admitting anything else. “Harry, I came here to apologise. I embarrassed myself a-and, maybe even you, I'm just, I-I’m so sorry.” She sighed, shaking her head before feeling the weight of his head against her shoulder. “S’not,” another hiccup interrupted him, “S’not y’fault, Y/N.” He whispered, a slow yawn following suit, his full body weight now resting against her. She managed a half-smile as she began sliding to the side under his weight deciding to drop the topic for now and let her head fall to the throw cushion sitting at the corner of the sofa. His head fell onto her chest and he yawned again. “Could never stay mad at you f’long.” He mumbled, bringing his legs up to get comfier in his position. A smile crept its way across her lips, her hand finding a comfortable position at his hair. “S’not fair to you.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead before leaning up to turn the lamp out. “You’re too good t'me, Harry.” She murmured, reaching for the throw blanket to spread over his body. His only response was to briefly squeeze her and it wasn’t long afterwards that she could hear his peaceful snoring.

[part II.] [part III.]

(a/n: its hereeeee!! i hope you all like it, this has been sitting in my google docs for literal yearrrssss as something I’d read for comfort every now and then. literally this story idea has been in my head, i can hear harry and y/n talking constantly in my head. feedback, reblogs, likes are greatly appreciated!!)

#harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harrys house #harry styles on tour #harry styles reader insert #harry styles tumblr #harry styles au #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fwb #harry writing #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #comfort!harry #best friend!harry #bestfriend!harry #sick of you #sick of you!harry

[1800titz]

SURPRISE SURPRISE! New Camprry FWB one shot coming TOMORROW (1/29) at 2 PM EST

“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.”

Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls in a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter.

Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock.

“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.

“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?”

She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied with a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat.

“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?”

[eveningepiphany]

manbun | H.S blurb

my masterlist

summary: you and harry are about to fuck in the back of his car, and you want his hair out for it. little do you know how much he likes a bit of hair pulling.

warnings: SMUT, car sex, quickie, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected PIV, swearing.

a/n: just a little snack for y’all while I work on far from sober’s second part! manbunrry is so underrated.

———

“Baby—“ you hiss as Harry’s teeth come in contact with the junction of your neck and jaw.

His hands are on your hips, gripping tight since the moment he slid you up his lap.

You were making out in the back seat of his car— an impromptu decision to drive out to the nearest city lookout has quickly turned into, well… whatever you call this.

You weren’t together, the two of you. But it’s complicated to describe what you even are. He’d invited you over to watch a movie, so you did that, and nothing sexual had even happened.

Quickly that changed, after driving out here, the middle of butt-fuck nowhere and all the sudden being all over eachother.

Well at least since he joked about the both of you fucking in his car. Pretty sure he was just really into the idea.

He hums in the back of his throat, it’s gravelly, laced with the pleasure he’s evidently gaining from this. You can feel him plumping up beneath you.

You’re salivating over his half unbuttoned shirt. It’s borderline slutty, the way he walks around like that. Teasing his pecs and the top of his butterfly tattoo.

Sometimes you don’t know how people have a coherent conversation with him while he looks like that outside. Hair out, abs peaking through— it makes you almost nauseous.

He’d probably had his hair down during the earlier hours of the day, and then tied it up before you’d come over, since it’d been up since you went over this evening.

As much as your a fan of the manbun— trust me, no one loves that bun like you do— you want his hair out.

So your hands lace behind his neck, sliding up to where the hair-tie securing his hair was. You start to tug on it.

It was in tighter than you’d initially expected— causing you to be practically just pulling on it— and nothing could’ve prepared you for the moan that comes out of him.

“God— you’re— shit.” His hips snap up against you. Hard. You almost laugh at how unexpected it was.

“Harry,” You begin, and there’s a teasing yet aroused edge to your voice, “are you getting worked up over me pulling you hair?”

He can’t even verbalise the heat that flushed through him as that happened, his jaw gone lax.

Your fingers wrap around the hair-tie again, tugging it out, earning another groan from him. You don’t stop there though, not after seeing him react like this. You gather up his hair into a make shift ponytail, pulling on it, gauging his reaction again.

His lips scrape up your neck as he tilts his head back to follow the pull.

“Didn’t know you liked getting your hair pulled, huh.” You said, tightening your grip and bringing his eyes to lock with yours.

“Fuck— I didn’t… I didn’t know.” He hissed at your teasing, pushing his hips up to your core again, trying to relieve a little pressure.

“Seems like a pretty submissive trait if you ask me? Like being a bottom hm?”

“Shut up.” He huffs, but you just grip his hair tighter.

Reaching down, you undo a few more buttons on his shirt, “Already half undone for me.”

He pulls at your sweatpants, tugging them off with only a minor struggle. Beginning to palm over you through your underwear, which is damp already.

“Already so wet. Feel it through y’underwear, babe.” He groans, kissing your neck.

You start unbuttoning his jeans, and he lifts his hips and helps you pull them down below his thighs.

“Want me on top? Want me to ride you in the backseat of your car?” You pull his cock out from his briefs, salivating at the sight.

The two of you seemed to be dancing, swapping who was leading every few steps and it was weird to experience. But it was hot regardless, seeing him act so submissive yet dominant in a span of moments.

“Jesus, ‘course I do.” He takes his hand, pushing your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers through your slit.

He drags your arousal up to your clit, drawing fast circles over you that has your stomach clenching. You move his hand away, replacing it with the head of his cock, earning a shared moan from the two of you.

One hand is still tangled up in his hair as you sink down his length about half way before allowing a moment to adjust and take a breath.

“Still so fuckin’ tight Y/N. Anyone would think I’d never fucked y’with my cock before.” He moaned, hands cupping your ass and squeezing.

“Y’still feel huge, H.” You feel him pulse within you as you slide a little further down.

As you feel the stretch, you let out that tension on his hair— yanking it back more.

“Don’t— baby— you’re gonna make me come.” He moans, thighs tensing under you.

“Hold it.” You say, getting to the very base of him and rolling your hips against him.

“Shit…” He curses, and you lean forward to kiss his adams apple, licking a stripe up to his chin.

You begin bouncing on him, starting up a rhythm that has his eyes rolling back into his head.

His hand slides forward from your ass, and down to play with your clit.

The car was genuinely swaying, and with the way the both of you were panting, you were beginning to fog up the windows.

He pinches your clit, and you give a rough tug on his brown curls.

The two of you are undoing eachother, so fast it’s giving you whiplash.

The groans coming from him are unmatched though, and you never thought he’d be so into this.

“Fucking dirty, Harry. Didn’t think you’d love getting pulled on like this. Like a slut would.” Jerking his head back to meet your eyes again, his pupils are blown out with pleasure.

“Y/N—“ he moans, and you purposefully squeeze around his cock.

“Cant admit it, can you? That you’re just a fucking slut.” You say, holding him in place.

“I’m gonna— Jesus Christ— gonna come if you keep pulling on me like this.”

You bounce harder over his cock, kissing his jaw and lips as you ignore the burn in you legs and the pit of your stomach.

His fingers are fucking your clit with a matched pace to your bounces, and your resolve starts to crumble beneath you.

“Harry—“ you cry as his fingers slip all over your absolutely soaked clit.

“Come. Just fucking come on my cock, please!” He begs, and your whole body tenses as it happens.

You thighs are shaking as you come around his dick, so hard your digging the nails of your free hand into his shoulder. The other has got his hair in a vice-like grip.

That combined with the clenching of your cunt, Harry can’t hold it a second longer— his own moans are sounding seconds after yours.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ he hisses, abs clenching as his warm ropes of come shoots into you.

It takes a moment to come down from your highs. And you’re both still shaking as you begin to untangle yourselves from one another.

“You’re probably gonna have a sore scalp tomorrow.” You laugh a little as he tucks himself gently back into his briefs, wincing a little at the sensitivity of his cock.

“Worth it, I guess…” he admits quietly.

“It’s hot you know? You pulling on my hair like that. Nearly came when you first did it.”

“Well fuck, I think it’s hot you like having your hair pulled.” You shrug, kissing his lips.

“M’ glad. Means you’ll do it again.”

“Anytime, Harry.” You smile, half joking, half not.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #he’s so hot #smut #fwb couple #FWB Harry

[lilystyles]

when not in rome.

a @lilystyles blurb!

my masterlist & no strings attached masterlist & blurbs masterlist

authors note idk this was a random thing i wrote at 2AM because i just missed them, i am still working on style so don't worry that should be out soon. also this is set way before no strings, i love writing about them in their previous moments!

brief description harry surprises y/n at her graduation (also listen to love of my life by h whilst readinggg)

warnings! angsty? fluffy? drunk y/n and harry (2.1k)

younger!lhh!nostrings!h x reader

* * * * *

SIX YEARS BEFORE

University has a funny way of making you feel like you might never cross the finish line. Y/n like everyone else had multiple days where she would just sob and scream from the stress of it all. Exams were totally a torture device.

When Y/n graduated with her first degree before deciding to write her thesis Harry surprised her.

He’d been touring the world with One Direction for months now and she hadn’t seen him since Paris the year before, when he’d surprised her by flying her to join them in their Paris show and they’d had a wild few drunken nights that she felt blurred the lines of friendship into something more.

But after their few days, when the champagne ran out, and she came back home, she sobered and realised that nothing would ever happen between them. And if you spent a few nights with Harry in a limo drinking champagne and dealing with his wandering hands you too would fall for him. Just a bit. It's only natural.

She missed him, though, loads. He was one of her best friends after all.

Around a month ago they phoned each other, it was late for her and the morning for him, she’d been studying and they talked for hours catching up till the sky turned bright for her and her eyes drooped shut. The time between their phone calls had grown longer and longer now, and she missed him. She’d mentioned that she was graduating soon and that they were both supposed to be graduating if he’d stayed in Uni. She remembers them staying up late at parties discussing their futures and how post-graduation Harry was insistent that they’d still be roommates. She realised now that their dream definitely wasn’t a possibility anymore.

He’d told her that instead of being there graduating like they’d suspected he was going to be, he was in Rome at some fashion show gala thing, and his date was this sexy model named Rosalie who had her sex tape leaked a couple of months ago. She was happy for him, but a part of her couldn’t help but be disappointed. She felt like he was drifting away from her every day, but she couldn’t find in herself to be cross with him. He was swept up by the fame of it all, and how on earth could she be mad that he was literally a rockstar? She knew that he was still Harry and she was still Y/n but they weren’t Harry and Y/n anymore. Not like before.

And honestly, she’d probably leave everything and everyone behind, party all night, and sleep with sexy models too if she had the chance to be famous. But she couldn’t sing for shit. So instead she did what she was doing, and shoved her nose in a book rather than in lines off a bathroom sink, and she was rather content with the peacefulness of it all.

All thoughts of Harry were swept away from her mind when she walked across the stage in the grande hall. She was finally graduating! Thank god! She thought. She had a sash that showed she was an honours student, and she was blooming with pride, when they called her name her list of achievements was longer than the four painful years she’d spent studying in their grande libraries. She was so glad to shake the hand of one of her favourite professors and leave, the next year ahead she planned to travel and work overseas, she was excited about that.

But honestly, she was even more excited to get absolutely shit-faced at the graduation after-ball party. She found herself a few pints down, sitting by the edge of one of the fountains, when she nearly fell in at the absolutely shocking sight in front of her.

There was just no way it could be true. I mean he was in Rome, and she was drunk in London. She’d seen photos on her Twitter of him wrapping his tattooed arms around that Rosalie model girl, so how could he be here in London just like that? It was not real, surely. She must be hallucinating and the second-hand smoke of all the spliffs had finally got to her brain. But suddenly the man turned around and Jesus Christ it was him. It was Harry. His eyes were pinched as he searched the crowd and when he finally saw her they lit up, all green like a forest, and his mouth kicked up into that devilish grin of his.

He saw her dumb-struck expression and laughed softly walking toward his best friend. He was dressed in a suit jacket like everyone else, and since they were all drunk none of them noticed it was the Harry Styles of the One Direction AKA the biggest band in the world. To them, he was just some random twat who just graduated too.

His hair had grown all long and curly, and he just looked so much more like a man than when he’d left. Had he gotten taller? More strong? The arms of his jacket strained and Y/n sighed at the sight of him.

She didn't think she'd changed much, but Harry thought she looked even more beautiful than before, if possible.

When he stood right in front of her, her mouth was still wide in utter shock. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He laughed. “Is that all you hafta’ say? Come on, hug your best friend!”

She sprang up from her seat and the silky long dress, which was a teal blue colour. All smooth and tight on her skin was hiked up slightly. Her gown and cap were long gone, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. He lifted her up off the floor and spun them around. 

She smelt like peaches and sweetness, and God, he could've stayed holding her for weeks.

She giggled and felt her face hurt from smiling so big. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you!”

When he placed her down, his hands did not leave the curve of her waist. “Surprise, babe.”

“What the- shit- I thought you were in Rome! How’d you even get here?” She asked 

He smiled. “I was, got a flight this afternoon. It was the only one coming home, sorry for missing the graduation part.”

She just smiled up at him. “You’re crazy.”

He shook his head landing a hand on her shoulder. “I knew how important it was to you, and I missed you. Sue me.”

She laughed, eyes welling with slight tears. Maybe he wasn’t drifting too far from her after all. “Oh, god, don’t make me cry, you know how I get after a few pints, H.”

He laughed, arms outstretched for her to cuddle him. “Aw, pet, c’mere.”

She smacked his chest playfully but cuddled him nonetheless. “Let’s go get royally fucked, mate,” She whispered and they pulled apart, hands interlocking as she lead him off to one of the pubs where everyone was buying drinks.

It was called The Ducks Nuts.

A few of her mates were inside. Ones Harry didn’t know, but she’d already spent a good portion of the night with them. So she told them her old friend had surprised her and they’d be here and there.

Harry ordered them some shots and eventually the night was just a blur of hands touching each other, as they got so drunk Y/n felt her world spinning. They’d hopped around multiple different pubs and bars and Y/n was so tired. Her heels itched her feet with pain and she ripped them off, along with her bag. As they walked with little purpose she threw her things at him and began to dance in the middle of the road.

Harry was holding her things as she danced in the street showing her best Elton John impression, and he silently decided that was what made her so perfect. She was just herself. And he loved that about her, he loved everything about her.

He laughed and told her what a realistic impression it was, and how they’d met at some award show to back up that comment. She was infinitely jealous, she loved Elton.

On her way back toward him she landed in his arms after losing her footing he shook his head at her.

“You are very drunk, Lovie. Aren't ya'?" He said, in a soft tone one that made her tummy turn in flips.

She sighed as they walked in a direction with no destination in mind. “You aren’t drunk enough, you need to get on my level.”

He noticed her shiver under his arm and quickly ripped his coat off. It swallowed her form and she smiled gratefully hugging the coat around herself. It felt like a warm embrace, and that smell filled her nose and suddenly she was home in her old flat with him, home in Holmes Chapel, home with him. Just home.

“Smells good.” She giggled as she sniffed the shoulder pad, her cheek brushing against the soft material all dog-like. “N’ soft too.”

“Why thanks, it’s Gucci.” He replied. 

She rolled her eyes. “Come on then, money-bags, let’s get you as drunk as me.”

They strolled into a tavern near her flat and drank so much tequila that they had to practically carry each other home.

As Harry looked up at the stars and moon, feeling the cool air nip her skin he sighed. He hadn’t gotten this drunk, and been this happy in such a long time. He was giggling contently, as she leaned into him and he silently wished that the night would never end.

He never wanted his time with her to end either. He loved spending time with her, whether they were on an adventure or doing nothing at all. Y/n made it worthwhile.

When they reached the shitbox of a flat she lived in Harry followed calmly behind her, and when one of her neighbours spat a comment about drunken youths he sighed, “I wish you would’ve taken up my offer,”

She looked up at him as she played with the jammy door that never seemed to open on the first try. Shoving her shoulder into it as she managed to finally wedge it open, stumbling inside ungracefully.

And with a roll of her eyes, she ushered him inside. “There is zero chance I’d let my all-of-sudden bazillionaire rockstar friend buy me a flat, just cause he can afford shoes worth more than my entire life savings. Anyway, how could I ever pay it back? I have two p to my name and a packet of noodles in my possessions, Harry.”

He laughed. “Think of it as a graduation present then,”

She sighed. “Just shut up and sit down, and I’ll get some wine.”

It was almost 4AM now, and neither cared. They were beyond drunk, but Y/n missed him and if force-feeding him wine would get him to spend a whole 24 hours with her, she totally would.

When she sat down with two mugs spilling with a cherry red wine, that was the cheapest shit she’d ever bought, Harry laughed. Her wobbly legs forced her to land awkwardly on one thigh practically on top of his. He smiled, one that showed his kind eyes. 

Green pools of emerald she wished to swim in for eternity. She laughed at the thought, she really got poetic when she was drunk, huh?

“God, remind me to get you drunk more often.” He whispered.

She sighed. “Oh shut up, and fill me in on life then. Who are you shagging?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Who are you shagging?”

A blush crept up her neck, and suddenly the only secret she had kept from him was threatening to slip past her drunken red-stained lips.

“None of your business, but there’s this hot guy in my physics who I would totally shag,”

He laughed, but underneath it, he felt a jealousy creep up his spine, he knew he had no right since he’d been balls deep in two Italian models this morning, turns out threesomes are a really good cure for hangovers by the way. But despite that, he felt an itch he couldn’t scratch that resembled something pretty close to jealousy.

“What’s he like?” Harry asked.

She shrugged. “Dunno, tall, glasses, got that whole nerdy silent thing going for him.”

“That’s what you like then, silent types?” He asked, running a hand through his long curls, and she reached out to play with one.

She shook her head, and said distractedly, “I don’t know.”

“Makes sense why you never dated me then.” 

During primary school, Harry dated every girl in their class including Daisy and Penny, except Y/n who told him she didn’t fancy him. It was an ongoing topic of discussion between them. Why wasn't he good enough? He always asked.

She laughed at that comment. “I know you too well for that, and I get the unfiltered you, and I lived with you which was basically like being married to you. We bickered too much to ever date, Haz.”

He looked at her with hooded eyes, and for some reason that stung, but trying to be light-hearted he said. “Never say never, what if we needed to repopulate the earth?”

She looked over at him and placed a hand on his and kissed his cheek, all soft and slow, and for a moment he thought she might actually kiss him for real but instead, she said. “There’ll be no hope for humanity then.”

He sighed, fake pouting before a couple of minutes of silence passed and he turned to her and said. “Come with me to Brazil.”

Her eyes widened, “What?"

“I leave tomorrow night, come with me.” He said.

She frowned. “What? Come with you? You can't be serious.”

He nodded. “Please? I miss you! And we can party for a whole week together, or sleep, or do whatever the fuck you want! Just come, pack a bikini and something sparkly, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Y/n and Harry did end up going to Brazil but that’s a story for another time.

She stood up from the couch holding her hand out to him, and he slid his into hers. Cool rings grazing the soft skin of her palm.

“Let’s just go to sleep, you're talking like a crazy person.” She said, softly pushing a lock of his hair away from his eyes.

He sighed at her, “But m’ serious, Love.”

“Alright, ask me again tomorrow. That is if you even remember...now come on, let’s listen to Fleetwood Mac and sleep until tomorrow evening.”

Y/n's room was cosy and welcoming. Harry felt his eyes droop at the sight. A tiny lamp shining over them in an orange glow, her cot-like bed covered in blankets and the scent of her likely covering those sheets.

That night they slept in Y/n’s twin bed, cuddling, with Stevie Nicks serenading them to sleep. Cheeks plump and pink from too much alcohol, hands wandering scandalously, and the love in air was thick and obvious.

Before Y/n fell asleep she pecked his lips, in a quick kiss, one that it barely even touched him and said, “Night, mate,”

His lips burned like wildfire, and from that night on, he did think humanity had a chance if it was up to them. Whether or not she believed that.

“Night, Love.”

i have been a bit slack with updates lately...second year of uni is crazy and im already soooo busy, but i missed them and i wanted to write a lil sum for y'all until my next proper update :) BIG LOVEEEE

#nostringsattachedblurbs #nostringsattachedseriesbylilystyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader smut #lilystyles #harrystylesseries #childhood best friend to strangers to fwb to lovers #nostrings!H #blurb #longhairharry #my love #them

[violetsandfluff]

H0RNY

Loveee this picture of Harry 😩😩😩😵‍💫

TW: smut and horniness, no actual sex. I know I just did a virgin!y/n thing about Harry but…………. Consider this the prequel to that. Harry helps y/n get herself off bc she’s waiting til marriage. Smut, horniness, masturbating, language, etc.

“Hazza?” Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, panic was evident in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

“I feel weird.” she shifted, rubbing gently against the arm of the couch.

Harry rotated on the basement couch to look at her. “Are you sick?”

“No… well maybe. I don’t know,” she whined and Harry placed a hand to her forehead.

“You don’t seem sick,” he mused. “What does it feel like?”

You described the sensation in vivid detail and his cheeks heated up with realization.

“What’s wrong with me?” she moaned tearfully as Harry licked his lips and responded slowly, “Tell me more?”

“It hurts… down there. It doesn’t quite hurt… it’s burning… throbbing, that’s it.”

“You’re horny.” The words fell like bricks into her ears.

“What?”

“Horny, sweetie. It’s when you-“

“ ‘Kay, Harry, I get it.” she snapped in annoyed disbelief.

“What made you horny, Y/N?” he had to ask.

“Well,” she began nervously, chewing her bottom lip. “You were holding me really close and whispering to me… and I know we’re just friends. And I’m sorry. But the …”

“I got you all bothered?” Harry couldn’t hide his proud grin. “Woah. I thought a girl like you would have higher standards!”

“Nope. Low as hell,” she couldn’t help but joke around with him. “I don’t know why but it was so fvcking sexy and I thought it was butterflies but then they went down.”

“Wow.” Harry began nervously moving his hands around. “Do you still want to wait until marriage or… do I need to teach you how to get yourself off?”

“You mean, masturbate?”

“Well… yes,” Harry settled finally.

“How often do you masturbate?” you couldn’t help but ask, laughing when his face reddened.

“Questions about my sex life, hm? My, you’re getting gutsy.” he smirked, looking directly into her concerned eyes and causing the throbbing to advance. “Every week or so… sometimes more often than others.”

“Oh.” Another panicked thought entered her naïve mind. “What if my parents find us…”

“Do you use tampons?”

“No,” she replied slowly, stroking her ponytail. “Never tried putting anything up there.”

“Does your mom?” He quickly emphasized when he saw your face. “Well obviously,” he chuckled. “You exist, don’t you?”

You erupted into choking laughter and he shushed you.

“Does your mom use tampons, I meant? Your sister?”

“My sister does,” she said quickly.

“Can you get one from her?”

“I’ll see.” She started up the basement stairs, in a mission. Her dad was in the kitchen making dinner and he questioned where she were going in such a rush and she just laughed it off, saying she needed a phone charger.

She returned from her sister’s room charger-free, but tampon in hand. She brought it proudly to Harry and dropped it in his cupped hands.

“Good dog. You fetched!” He snickered. “Do you want a cookie? Or a bone, I should say.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious,” she grumped. “Now look at it, will that do?”

Harry opened the package and analyzed the tampon intently. “It’s thick,” he noticed. “Does it have to be?”

“They make ultra-thin ones now,” she said. “But that was the smallest one my sister had.”

“It will make do,” he placed it back into her smaller hand. “Now, what you need to do is to put it up in there and move it around. A specific spot—your g-spot—will feel amazing. Shove it back into that place until you cum. Sound good?”

Her cheeks reddened. That sounded horrible. “Wait, where is my g-spot?” She was also comically appalled that her best friend was practically teaching her how to fvck herself.

“You’ll find it. Also, go in the shower so you don’t mess up the floor.”

“What does an orgasm feel like?”

“Y/N, go.” Harry commanded. “You’ll figure it out.”

She walked stiffly into the bathroom, not wanting to irritate her throbbing pussy. She was terrified of shoving an object into herself to get off, but here she was.

She was afraid it would either hurt, or Harry was fvcking with her about being horny at all. Still, she removed her pants and underwear, stepped into the shower and gripped the tampon firmly. She wiggled it in, testing how deep it could go.

In and out? Around and around? What had Harry said?

It was pleasantly less painful than she had expected, but she couldn’t get over the fact that her best friend had gotten her horny.

The sensation she experienced when she finally got better was unexplainable. She had never dreamed that such a feeling could exist. She sat down, still half naked, on the toilet, put her head in her hands and laughed to herself.

Breathing hard, she threw the tampon away and put on her clothes. She walked out of the bathroom, the carpet squishing between her toes.

“How was it?” Harry looked up from his phone to examine her. “Did it help?”

She nodded slowly before wrapping her arms around him in a strong embrace.

“Careful,” he warned jokingly. “Don’t want anything else to happen to ya, do we?”

She continued hugging him and he felt an all-too-familiar feeling surge through his body. “Let’s just try and ignore each other for a minute,” he suggested. “We’ll feel better.”

“What do you mean?” She asked quizzically and he rolled his eyes. “Horny fiend,” he grunted. “You know damn well.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #smut #blurb #fanfixtion #harry styles #horny!y/n #virgin!y/n #harry styles x y/n #friends with benefits!harry #fwb!harry #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

[daaydreamy]

11 with fwb harry :))

𓄹𓈒 11 - “are you sick?”

“Are you sick?” Harry furrowed his brows when he looked at Y/N. She wasn’t looking all that great and he got a bit concerned. She had called him over for no reason, and he had no reason to decline, so he came over.

“Yeah.” She sighed and sat down on the couch. “Sucks.” She added on, taking a sip from the cup of tea she made for herself while waiting for Harry to come over. Her forehead was hot and she couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing and she just felt… bad. She called Harry over because she was lonely and absolutely hated being sick and hoped that maybe having him there would make her feel better.

“You could’ve told me. Would’ve brought food over.” He bit the inside of his cheek.

She smiled softly at him, “It’s okay. Just kinda wanted you here anyway.”

Harry nodded, trying not to smile. His cheeks grew a bit warm though. It was nice that she just wanted him there with her. Like she was thinking he would make her feel better. They were also friends with benefits, and he was growing a bit worried that he was falling for her.

Actually, he was falling for her.

But she didn’t know that.

#💌┊anonymous #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #friends with benefits!harry #fwb!harry #writing

[daydadahlias]

my 1st ff was harry styles x oc except i didn’t know who harry styles or a ff was i just thought it was a regular story

the first time i read a ff and was actually aware of it it was a dramione one which is funny bc its one of my least fav ship today lmao

i wish i lived in a world where harry styles was fictional

#dramione is hOrrible #what terrible taste past you had #i say that. when she slapped him >> #i could see them as hate sex fwb #in Adulthood. obviously. #am i legally allowed to say this abt harry styles will someone get mad at me #pigeon #ziya