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#harry gif
sunkissedlouis · 1 month
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harry at the man united vs luton game 02.18.24
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kiwikiwiandkiwi · 1 year
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— Harry thanking the 1D boys after winning Artist Of The Year
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freedomfireflies · 7 months
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Yellow*
Summary: An extra for One for the Money*
The one where you have to use your safeword with Mr. Styles and you worry it'll ruin everything.
Word Count: 3.4k
(TW: Panic attack and mentions of panic attacks)
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
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“Just like that…shit, just like that, Peach. So fucking good. Can feel you, honey. Fucking feel you—”
Mr. Styles’ hand intertwines with yours before he brings them both to your stomach. Pressing your palm taut to the flesh until you can feel the subtle bulge from his cock. Thrusting into you so deep, your eyes roll all the way back into your head.
He’s been at it for hours. Showing off for the camera, allowing them to see him at his most powerful. And you at your most vulnerable.
You’re used to it by now. More than used to it, and on any given day, you thrive off it. You indulge in his prowess, his intentions. More than willing to be flaunted in front of the large audience of onlookers as he takes you anyway he wants you.
So you’re not sure why today feels different. Why the weight on your chest is heavier than it usually is. Why his hands – while always kind, always comforting – feel like tools in a game of your misery.
You don’t want to stop him. Don’t want to scare him or upset him. You know the moment you utter the words, the dynamic will shift instantaneously. And perhaps that’s what you want, but the repercussions might be more than you’re prepared to handle.
Yet the thought doesn’t leave you as he lowers his fingers toward your clit to pinch and tweak your next orgasm out of you. But you’re already far too sensitive, far too gone in the stimulation and the pain to enjoy it.
Instead, you try to focus on the little red light that blinks from the camera, try to imagine how pleased the audience will be to see this. How all of this will be worth it. It has to be worth it.
“Feels good, honey, doesn’t it?” he groans, now pushing your knee into your chest until you’re whimpering. “My pretty pussy takes me so well, doesn’t she? Let’s me fuck her exactly the way I want. Till she’s fucking crying.”
You nod weakly and the sight of your wet eyes makes his cock twitch as he drives himself in at a quicker pace.
And suddenly, you can’t breathe. Can’t slow the racing of your pulse or ignore the ringing in your ears. It’s everywhere, this pain. Your vision of him has gone blurry and your poor pussy feels swollen and abused.
But you tell yourself it’ll be fine. That you just need to catch your breath. You just need a second, and it’ll be okay. 
Because you don’t want to say it. You’ve never had to say it before, and you don’t exactly want to start now. And you aren’t sure why, you know he’d be more than understanding. But this is silly, you feel silly. Because you’re fine. You just need a second. And it'll pass. 
It will pass.
But it doesn’t pass, and you don’t feel in control of your own body anymore. Which is normally the point, but not today. Today you need to feel grounded, to feel some semblance of power over the anguish. And he’s so good, and so kind, and you can’t say it. You can’t do this to him, can’t do this to yourself, and if you can just catch your breath, it’ll be okay. 
Because he feels good, he really does. And you’re making him feel good, and you don’t want to take that from him. Because then he won’t get to cum, and he’ll be upset, and he’ll never treat you the same. He’ll always remember that you were too weak to take it.
So you’ll take it, you will. You’ll be his good girl, his good little slut, and you’ll make him proud. 
You will.
Your eyes squeeze shut as you repeat this mantra. As you command yourself to like the pain. Because you do. You have to. You can’t say it. You can’t, so you won’t, and you won’t do this, and you won’t ruin it, and it’s fine, and everything is fine—
“Wait,” you whisper, hands tugging on the sweaty curls at your disposal. Hard enough to capture his attention. “Wait, hold on, hold…yellow.”
Just like that…it all stops. He stills, instantly. No more thrusts into your cunt, no more pinching or pulling on your clit, no more kisses to your neck. It all stops in the blink of an eye, and you hear him inhale a quick breath as his body freezes above yours.
Seconds pass. Quiet and filled with a charged, tense energy that’s so eerie, you can almost hear your heart thumping in your chest. 
Then, he murmurs, “Okay. Okay, m’waiting.”
Your lashes flutter shut as a wince stretches across your expression. He doesn’t sound upset, but maybe he is. And you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, can sense how hard he’s trying to hold himself back, how difficult this must be for him to stop like this.
And you realize now that you’ve ruined it, and he’s gonna be pissed, and he’s going to end things, and he’s never gonna fuck you again—
“Peach,” he says softly, face still nuzzled against your shoulder. “Talk to me, what do you need? What would you like me to do?”
You don’t trust your voice. Can feel the influx of tears racing up the back of your throat as you squeeze his hair harder and shake your head.
But this isn’t an answer he accepts, his fingers gently tugging on your waist. “Peach, I need to hear you. I need to know what to do—”
“Nothing,” you exhale, the words getting lost in his cheek as you hold on for dear life. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just need one second. One second and you can go, okay? I promise, I’m sorry—”
“Peach.” It’s not angry but it’s fervent. Determined. “Don’t…shit. Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now, just tell me…tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to pull out? Or do you want me to stay still?”
And you want to answer, but you can’t. Because there’s too much happening in your head right now. In your heart. It’s going faster than you think it ever has, and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, and you want to cry—God, you want to cry. Can already feel the tears slipping down your face, fast and without mercy.
Because he’s so good, and so wonderful, and so kind, and you don’t deserve him. Especially after making him stop, and why did you make him stop, why did you do this, why can’t you just get over it—
“Hey, hey.” His head lifts, eyes finding yours as his hand comes up to cup your jaw. As delicately as he can without startling you. “Okay, it’s all right. You’re okay, Peach.”
His lips press to the tears on your skin. Gently and with great compassion. Which, in turn, only makes you cry that much harder.
“You’re okay,” he whispers between slow kisses to your cheek. “Deep breath, my love. You’re all right, I’ve got you, yeah? M’right here. Won’t let you go until you want me to.”
You melt into the mattress as he continues holding you to the best of his ability. As he attempts to comfort you without causing you any more pain.
“Honey, I need you to tell me what you need. What your body needs,” he repeats after a moment, nose faintly brushing against yours. “Do you want me to pull out or do you want me to stay still?”
Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you want. It doesn’t sting the way it did before, but you’re worried if he moves, the pain will return tenfold.
And the thought of him taking himself from you makes your chest ache.
“I don’t know,” you whimper, attempting to hide yourself in his neck. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—”
“Hey.” The stern voice returns as his palm tightens against your chin and pulls your focus to him. “What did I just say, hm? I don’t want to hear one more apology out of this pretty mouth. Is that understood?”
Your bottom lip quivers. “…I’m sorry.”
With a gentle but slightly amused sigh, he says, “Peach—”
“I am,” you insist, nails curling into the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I made you stop, I’m fine. I’m fine, really. I think I just got scared or something—”
“Scared?” His demeanor shifts on a dime, brows furrowing, and expression quickly growing distressed. “Scared how? What did I do? What can I do?”
“Nothing,” you repeat, gasping slightly at the implication. “Nothing, no. You didn’t…that’s not what I…fuck.”
“Okay, easy, Peach,” he mumbles, sweeping his thumb along your bottom lip soothingly. Waiting until you calm. And he studies you for quite some time, as though looking for the answer written somewhere on your face. “It was a lot, yeah? I pushed too hard.”
“No,” you try again, but his look of disapproval makes you wilt. “I mean…it was a lot, yes, but you didn’t…normally, it’s perfect. It’s never too hard or too much. You didn’t do this, I think I just…my mind wasn’t here. Maybe.”
He nods once. Contemplates this. “I should have checked in with you more frequently. Especially with the camera on—”
“No,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap his shoulder. “Stop putting this on yourself, it’s making me sad.”
“And your apologies make me sad,” he counters. “But that’s the point of the safeword, isn’t it? The system we have in place? It’s nobody’s fault. It’s about communication. About trust, about safety.”
You swallow thickly and settle into the calming safe of his eyes.
His finger continues to trace the outline of your mouth, almost as if in an attempt to collect himself. “Do you trust me, Peach?”
Your stomach sinks. “Of course.”
“Do you feel safe with me?”
“Yes.” You leave a kiss to his thumb. “Always, Sir. I promise.”
He begins to frown. “No, I don’t want you to call me that right now. I want you to call me Harry.”
And this shift – this instruction is what you were afraid of. Lashes fluttering as you whisper, “It’s…it’s okay. You can still be Sir, I promise—”
“No, I don’t want to be your dominant right now,” he corrects firmly. “I don’t want to be your Sir. Or your boss or your investor. I want to be your partner. Your equal. I want to be you and me. Us.”
And you know he means it. Can sense the truth of it behind his assertion and it feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to take all day.
 “Okay,” you agree, taking hold of his wrist to keep his hand close to your face. “Okay, we’ll be us.”
He seems relieved, dipping down to kiss the center of your forehead before asking, “Now…tell me what you want. Do you want me to pull out or keep still? What does your body need right now?”
You take a moment to find the right answer. “I don’t…honestly, I don’t know. I’m okay right now. Doesn’t…doesn’t hurt as much. You can…you can keep going if you want.”
“It’s not about what I want,” he reminds you. “It’s about what you want. What you need. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to go, I will.”
“I…I don’t want you to go. Really, I didn’t mean to make us stop, I swear—”
“We’re not stopping yet,” he interrupts. “Not until you say red. Right now, we’re just taking a break. Reassessing what you need. Okay?”
You nod weakly. “Okay.”
“Good.” He presses his palm to your cheek. “Do you want to say red? Do you want to stop?”
Again, you deliberate this. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
The frown returns. “I need you to do more than think, Peach. I need you to be sure.”
“I am,” you rush to clarify, shifting a bit beneath him as you squeeze his arm and fight against a pained wince. “I am, I promise. I just…I don’t know what happened. It just…there was a lot happening all of a sudden, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe or…or understand why I felt so off.”
A certain sadness finds him again as he nods and presses a couple more kisses to your temple. “I think you had a panic attack, my love.”
It’s an odd thought. One you aren’t quite familiar with, as panic attacks aren’t that common for you. In fact, you don’t believe you’ve ever had one before. At least not that you were aware of.
“Oh…” The words feel empty in your head. Weightless, with no meaning to grasp onto. “I…why?”
The corner of his mouth curls up, and the delicate smile makes your heart soar. “I don’t know. Sometimes we can’t find the cause, it just…happens.”
You blink up at him. “You’ve had a panic attack before?”
“I have,” he says calmly, and it surprises you more than it should. “I get them occasionally. Not as much anymore, though. With you.”
And this admission feels like something you can’t explain. Another piece to the Harry Styles puzzle you get to add to. Letting you see his big picture.
“I didn’t know that,” you whisper, and he shrugs.
“I never told you.” Another kiss to your forehead. “But I know how disorienting they can be, and I think it’s best we take a longer break before we continue.”
You feel your expression fall as he gently begins to move. “No, I…I don’t want to stop, I’m fine. You can…you can go—”
However, when he suddenly shifts his hips, it forces you to suck in a sharp, pained breath. Making it clear that continuing is no longer an option.
And for some reason, it feels like a punch to the gut. Knocking the wind from your lungs until that heaviness returns to your chest.
He really is going to stop. He’s going to take his body from you, and his weight, and his heat, and his cock. And the scene will be over, and maybe you won’t start again. Maybe he won’t be in the mood, or he’ll jerk one out in the shower without you, or he’ll look at you differently.
And you hate that thought more than anything in the world.
“No,” you practically whimper, grabbing onto his hips to keep him still. “No, we don’t have to stop, I’m fine. Really, it was just…it was nothing. Please, Harry.”
His thumb quickly returns to your face, brushing just below your eye to help dry the fresh set of tears on your warm, stained cheeks.
And he looks so very wounded. “Peach…this isn’t a punishment. There’s a reason we use the traffic light system, and it’s for moments like this. To keep things safe—”
“But I am safe,” you argue, the sound of your plea timid and riddled with distress. “And I’m fine now, really. You can go, we can finish. I want you to finish—”
“Peach,” he says again, but it’s a bit more resolute. “This isn’t about me finishing. It will never be about me finishing, all right? We can always resume the scene later if you’d like, but right now…I want to hold you. I want to help you feel steady again.”
And it’s the most perfect thought in the world. From the most perfectly imperfect man, and yet the idea of stopping sends sharp needles down your spine.
“Please,” you whine again, sniffling softly. “I don’t want to stop, I promise. Please don’t make us stop, please don’t…don’t…”
He dips down and nuzzles his nose to yours, forcing you to take a deep breath. “Honey, I’m not doing this to hurt you. Or upset you. I want to help, I want you to let me help. To honor our system and take a break.”
But you tug on him tighter, face disappearing into his chest as you shake your head. “Please don’t. Please just ignore me. I’ll feel worse if we stop, really. I’ll get worried and I’ll overthink, and I’ll panic again, and it’ll just be so much worse. So just…let’s finish, okay? I want to finish.”
You hear – and feel – him sigh. “Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? This is my answer.”
It’s rare he uses this nickname, and even though it might be a little cliché, it makes your stomach wrench in the best possible way.
Yet still, the anguish is evident. “Harry,” you whisper, pleading desperately with everything you have left.
He slips his palm around the back of your neck to pull you from his body and allow him to see your face. It’s scrutinous, his expression. Slightly stern and somewhat doleful. “Do I need to be your dominant again? Is that the only way you’ll listen to me?”
Truth be told, you wonder if it is, and your sad little hiccup seems to be answer enough.
So, while fighting a smile, he says, “Then I want you to be a good girl and let Daddy hold you. I don’t want you to argue with me, or fight me, or act like a brat. I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ and be done with it. Is that understood?”
With a shaky inhale and a feeble nod, you murmur, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” he hums before landing his mouth on yours. Kissing you for the first time in what feels like years. “Much sweeter when you behave for me, my love. Aren’t you?”
But you don’t have the strength to answer.
“I know,” he says for you, chuckling against your lips. “Now…I’m gonna pull out. And I’m gonna go slow, all right? Try to be as gentle as I can. And I want you to tell me if it aches or if it’s too much, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
With this vow, he begins to draw his hips back, cock retreating from your pussy until that full feeling begins to diminish.
And at first it’s a bit uncomfortable. Tight, in a sense but eventually, he’s all the way out, and your cunt is provided a moment of much needed reprieve.
The moment that relief finds you, it seems to melt across your expression. And he notices, smiling gratefully but with a twinge of regret. As though he’s punishing himself for causing you the displeasure in the first place.
But before either of you can argue about it again, he’s settling on the mattress beside you and slipping an arm around your stomach. Keeping you pressed against his body to hold you the way he promised.
“There,” he sighs, lips returning to their rightful place on your neck. “Is that better?”
Your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy as you lace your hand with his. “Yes, Sir.”
He grins and that familiar dimple reappears. “Attagirl. And you’re gonna let me hold you, yeah?”
“Mhm. Always, Sir.”
He kisses the spot below your ear. “Good.”
The large bedroom falls silent while the little red light from the camera blinks the seconds away. You imagine you’ll have to scrap this video, and you want to feel regret over wasting so much content over this.
But you know, deep down, it’s not about the videos, or your OnlyFans, or the money.
Because all you really need…is here beside you.
“Sir?” you whisper into the delicate air.
His head rolls back. “Yes, Peach?”
“Thank you.”
He squeezes your hip. “Don’t have to thank me, honey. This is my job. This is what we agreed on.”
“I know,” you admit, allowing your other hand to travel to his hair. Fingers absentmindedly sweeping through the curls. “But I don’t think any of my other partners would have been this understanding. And I really appreciate it.”
His eyebrow raises. “Well, that’s why they aren’t your fucking partners anymore. You needed someone that wasn’t a total fucking twat.”
You smirk. “Touché.”
Another quiet lull as you listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Reveling in the feel of them against your heated skin. The way they keep you present in this moment with him instead of losing you to the voices in your head.
Contented, you turn and press your cheek to his forehead, nails scratching down his scalp gently. “Harry?”
“Yes, Peach?”
With a racing heart, your eyes flutter shut.
“…I love you.”
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Previous Part:
~ How Many?*
~ Full One for the Money Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @closureesny
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thestoryofusstan · 11 days
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I Wanna Be Yours
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pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader
request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??
summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.
warnings: cursing, not edited
--
you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.
rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.
tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.
with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.
“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.
“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.
“late?” nancy asked.
“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”
by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.
you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.
“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.
“long line at the coffee shop.”
“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”
you nearly choked on your drink.
“you finished those edits, right?”
“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.
“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”
“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“
“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”
“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.
out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.
“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“
you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.
and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.
“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”
your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”
he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.
“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.
“yes, sir.”
he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.
you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”
“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”
“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”
right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.
“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.
“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.
“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”
you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.
“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.
“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.
“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”
“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”
even you could tell he did not mean that.
“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.
“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”
you all chorused variations of yes.
“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”
you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.
“i expect an answer.”
“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.
“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“
“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”
josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”
mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”
“yes, mr—“
“so why aren’t you doing it?”
“i— i’ve been.. busy.”
“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”
“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”
“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”
“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“
“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”
josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.
you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.
“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“
“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”
“you better watch what you say to me—“
a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”
you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”
you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.
you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.
"miss townes, correct?" he asked.
"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."
he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."
you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.
"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"
"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."
"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"
"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."
his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"
"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.
"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"
you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.
"yes, mr. styles."
it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.
"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"
you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.
"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."
josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"
"i'm not asking."
mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."
"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.
"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."
you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.
"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.
"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"
"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."
"really? i mean.. are you sure?"
"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."
"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.
right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.
"oh, and y/n?"
you turned around with a furrow in your brows.
"let me know if you have any other problems."
you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.
--
a/n: part 1!! i really love this request
735 notes · View notes
strawnarrries · 6 months
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We Fight, We Make Up
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Summary: Harry gets turned on when you yell at him.
Requested: Nope
POV: 2nd
Word count: 3.4k
Warning(s): Unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight spanking
The argument happened before the night even started. You didn't even wanna go. You wanted to stay in the hotel with your husband. Alone. Without having to share him with anyone else. Recently, you have been missing him. Yes, you see him every day and fall asleep with him every night; but you felt like you had to share him with the entire world. When he wasn't on stage in front of his thousands of fans, he was either at the gym or working with his team, writing new songs, and talking about new plans.
Tonight was one of his rare nights off and of course, he and his team wanted to go out. He wanted you to go with him and you did, but you were grumpy from the moment he brought it up to the moment you're at with him now.
You were arguing while you got ready. Harry didn't understand where you were coming from. You were on tour with him. You were with him every day, went everywhere that he went, and got to sleep next to him every night. He thought you were being a bit needy and selfish. He didn't say that to you of course, but he definitely voiced that he thought you were being irrational.
Once you had met everyone in the hotel lobby, you both put on your brave faces, not wanting to draw any attention to your problems. You tried to forget about your current struggles and have fun while you could. Neither of you drank that much. You just were not in the mood and Harry had a show the next day. It was only occasional that he would drink while on tour, but never when he had a show the next day.
Once the night was over, the argument continued.
"Y/N, baby, I dunno what you want me to do. We're on tour, this is my work. I can't spend every second with you."
"Oh my god, Harry. You know I'm not asking you to spend every second with me. I just want some alone time with you. I told you I feel like I have to share you with everyone and never get any time just you and me."
"But we do get alone time. We got a whole room to ourselves. I give you a cuddle while we fall asleep every night. Why is that not enough?"
"It's not about being enough. It's about me feeling like you're not prioritizing me or wanting to spend any time with me."
"This is the first tour that you've been able to come with me for every show. This is what it's like. I don't get alone time. This is my job. I can't just drop it all to spend time with you."
You were starting to get angry, "You don't work every hour of the day! Tonight - I told you beforehand that I didn't wanna go and I wanted to stay here with you but you wanted to go out instead."
"Well, yeah because I've got a night off and wanted to have fun with everyone."
"Exactly! Everyone. You didn't wanna spend time with me. You spend time with them every fucking day and the one day you have off you choose to be with them."
"Y/N, you-" he started before you cut him off, your voice raising in frustration, "Harry, you're my fucking husband! I shouldn't have to beg you to spend time with just me!"
All of a sudden, a cheeky, slightly evil smirk arose on his lips and his eyes scanned your body up and down. It was very rare that you got angry when you argue with him, you usually just get really sad. Your disagreements are usually quiet and filled with tears. It was your least favorite thing to do. You hated having serious conversations with Harry and couldn't help but cry when they happened. Harry was a sympathetic cryer so when you cried, he cried. In the 10 years that you and Harry have been together, you only yelled at him in an argument probably 4 times. So, he found this moment quite amusing.
"Why the fuck are you laughing?"
"I'm not," he chuckled looking up at your angry eyes.
He kept that smirk on his lips as he stared at you deeply, your blood beginning to boil as a breathy giggle left his lips.
"Oh my god, I'm so sick of this," you snapped, turning around and getting ready to storm into the bathroom.
"Y/N, stop."
He was quick to grab your arm, pulling him into you and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from running from him. Placing both hands on his hips, you glared up at him, "What?"
He didn't reply, his eyes bore into yours while he was pushing your hips against his, jutting his out to show you exactly what he was feeling. You could feel his tight bulge straining in his slacks against your pelvis and you could not believe what was happening.
"You're hard?" you replied as your lips mindlessly curved up in amusement, "Why?"
"Dunno, you rarely yell at me when we argue. It's kinda sexy," he replied, his voice slow and deep.
"What?" You were the one laughing now, "You're not supposed to get turned on. You're supposed to get pissed at me."
"I am pissed at you. But you're fuckin' cute when you get angry." He looked you up and down once more before adding, "Might be this outfit too."
"Oh my gosh, I wanna be mad at you so bad because of this but I'm really amused."
"Are we about to have angry sex?"
You didn't even answer him. You immediately pulled him down by the back of his neck and attacked his lips with yours. He kissed you back, moving in sync with you. His tongue caressed your lips, tasting you as you backed him up against the edge of the bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he immediately sat down, pulling you with him. Pulling your dress up past your hips so you could spread your legs, you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your ass, cupping and squeezing it.
You continued to kiss him, making out like you were teenagers. Your kisses were fast and sloppy, your panties dampening as you ground your hips against his center. You ran your fingers through his dark hair, tugging at the soft strands gently. You felt your clit throbbing in anticipation and you knew you couldn't wait too long before he filled you up.
Your hands frantically slid down his body, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You had been so upset with him, you had overlooked how good he looked tonight. He wore a white button-up, only having the bottom two buttons tied together to show off his tanned, tattooed chest. He paired it with a pair of black slack pants and white loafers that he had slipped off the moment you got back to your room. He had his famous cross and phallic banana necklaces on and had rings lined on almost every one of his fingers.
You slid his top off of his shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. His glistening skin and dark tattoos were now on full display for you. You ran your fingernails across his body, feeling every inch of his torso that you could reach. You continued to grind your center against his, circling your hips so his bulge rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit.
"I want you so bad," he breathed out and you hummed against his lips in agreement.
His fingertips grabbed onto the hem of your silky dress and pulled it up over your head, tossing it with his shirt. Your lips only parted to pull the dress off, immediately attaching again once you were exposed to him. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your strapless bra with ease, letting it fall onto your lap. After grabbing it and tossing it, his hands cupped both breasts and kneaded them harshly.
His kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking at all your sweet spots. You let your head fall to the side to give him more access and hummed in satisfaction. His lips trailed even further down until they latched onto your right breast. He sucked at your nipple, hand still kneading your left one. Flicking his tongue back and forth against your bud, your back arched into him. Nibbling on it, you whimpered and he pulled away, giving your other breast the same amount of attention.
Returning back to your lips, he tugged on the band of your panties, acknowledging that he wanted them off. You stood up in between his legs and pulled your panties down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. While you did that, he unbuttoned the button on his pants, lifted his hips, pushed them down his thighs, and pulled them off his legs.
Both of you were now completely naked and exposed to each other. You straddled his lap again and he reached down between your bodies, sliding his fingers between your folds to feel your wetness. He groaned softly as his middle finger and ring finger slipped past your opening with ease. You mimicked his moan when his fingers began to move in and out of you, the coldness of his peace ring and his pearl ring sending chills up your spine.
"Jesus, Y/N, I'm so fuckin' horny right now," he groaned desperately.
"I need you inside me," you whimpered into his ear, equally as desperate, "right now, Harry, please."
"C'mere," he hummed.
Pulling his fingers out of you, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up. Turning around, he laid you down on the sheets with your hips at the edge of the bed while standing in between your spread legs. He grasped onto both of your ankles and hooked them around his shoulders. Wrapping his right palm around his member, he wasted no time and immediately positioned his swollen tip at your entrance, sliding in while he hovered over you. You both let out moans at the euphoric feeling of him filling you up. He stilled inside of you, allowing you a minute to adjust to his size. His forehead rested against yours and he grunted softly when he felt you clench around him.
Leaning back up, he grabbed onto each of your thighs to ground you. Not holding anything back, he began thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Knew every single one of your sweet spots and every single movement that made you putty in his hands.
His thighs slapped against yours and your breasts bobbed with each hard thrust of his hips. Your orgasm was quickly starting to grow closer and you found yourself clenching around him each time his tip brushed up against your good spot. Your face contorted with pleasure and you tightly gripped the sheets below you.
"Oh fuck," you whimpered softly, "Harry, yes!"
"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted in between stagged breaths, "Just wanted me to fuck you like this?"
His fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs, most likely leaving marks for you to complain about the next morning. The bed squeaked under you and you knew the backs of your thighs were quickly turning bright red with the repetitive slapping. It was purely a pornographic scene and you were in complete and utter bliss.
"Answer me."
"Yes, yes," you chanted, "I needed this so bad. Needed you, Harry."
Lifting your head slightly, you looked down and watched as he disappeared in and out of you. He was slick with you, sparkling against the light in the room. You could physically hear how wet you are for him. His movements intensify that sound with each thrust. You let your head fall back down to the bed and look up at him. He's looking down between your bodies, watching what you were just watching. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his jaw hung slack as he breathed irregularly.
You watched as his muscles clenched with each thrust, a sheen layer of sweat beginning to form on his skin, glittering his tattoos. You let your eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure grew. You felt his left hand leave your thigh and immediately grasp onto your breast, squeezing it and allowing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch at your nipples.
Without warning, he wrapped his hands around your sides and flipped you over so you were on your belly. He tapped your hip gently, acknowledging you to sit up. Resting your elbows on the sheets to support your body, you stuck your ass up in the air for him, leaning back and pressing into him. He positioned at your entrance again and started back up where he had left off.
The sound of his skin slapping and your wetness continued to echo loudly throughout the room and if he wasn't making you feel so damn good right now, you would be worried about people outside the room hearing.
"Talk to me. This is exactly what you fuckin' wanted so tell me how good I'm making you feel."
"No," you whimpered, trying to get a rise out of him, "you don't love me anymore."
"Say that one more time and I'll spank you 'till you cry," he grunted.
You grinned at his words. You knew he wouldn't actually spank you until you cried, but you wanted to challenge him, "I'm not wrong."
His hand swatted at the fullest part of your ass and you squealed at the slight sting, his rings he never took off intensifying that sting. He never spanked you super hard, just enough to get you to straighten up when you were being sassy with him.
"Wanna try me again?"
"You never give me attention anymore."
Another spank landed across your ass and you moaned, his hand massaging the area to soothe the sting, "You're such a brat. You're asking for it now, aren't you?"
After one more smack against your skin, he grunted and his thrusts came to an abrupt stop. You were about to protest but then felt his big hands collecting your hair. He switched all of it to one hand, holding it up into a ponytail. He tugged on it, pulling your head back so that he could easily lean down to nip at your ear lobe and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips. Using his free hand, he grabbed onto your hip again and began thrusting.
"Want me all to yourself all the fuckin' time, huh?" he growled into your ear, sending shivers up your spine.
"You're mine," you moaned, "Don't like sharing you."
"Fuckin' selfish is what you are," he grunted in your ear, "Can't get enough of me, huh?"
You moaned in response, breath hitching in your throat before he continued, "Got people wanting my attention left and right and you only want me for yourself. I can see why though, with how good I make you feel. Not once have I ever failed to have you fuckin' trembling under me, babe."
"You're such a fucking narcissist," you grunted, words coming out strangled.
He chuckled deeply, biting on the shell of your ear, "It's the sole reason why you married me, innit? 'cause of how easy I can get you to scream my name?"
"Fuck off," you groaned and he chuckled again, loving how he got to you.
"Got the sexiest girl in the world to be my wife. How can I not be narcissistic?"
"Mmm," you whimpered, ignoring him, "Want more."
"More? Am I not giving you enough right now?"
"No, gimme more."
"Greedy, greedy girl. You're my greedy girl though, that right?"
You hummed in agreement as he let go of your hair, your head immediately hanging low. With both hands now on your hips, fingertips gripping your skin tightly, he changed his rhythm. Fast and hard. Exactly what you wanted right now.
"I'll give you whatever you want. Got me wrapped around your little finger."
"Obviously not, or else we wouldn't be in this situation right now," you grunted in sync with the smack of his hips against yours.
"Still mad at me, huh?"
"Just shut up and make me cum," you groaned.
You heard him chuckle behind you as he kept his rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. His thighs smacked against yours and the sound echoed throughout your hotel room. Your breath was hitched in your throat, your face contorted with pleasure and your jaw slack as moans occasionally escaped when your hitched breath allowed.
He got so deep inside you, hitting your special spot just underneath where your clit was located with each thrust of his powerful hips. His fingers were gripping your hips tightly, nails carving crescent moon shapes within your skin. Your clenched around him and you could feel every inch of him moving against your walls.
"Oh, Harry," you whimpered into the sheets and Harry's heart swelled as he noticed how much you needed this. How much you needed him.
With the length of his thrusts shortening and pace only slowing down slightly, he leaned down and pressed his back against yours, cupping your waist to pull him into you.
"Haven't been giving you the attention you deserve, have I, baby?" he grunted into your ear, words in sync with his thrusts.
"Mm mm," you whimpered, his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver.
"Been neglecting my favorite person in the world. My beautiful wife, fuck, I love you so much."
You couldn't even reply. Your voice wouldn't let you, the only thing you could get out was moans of pure pleasure by not only him inside of you, but also him finally giving you exactly what he wanted. His hands slid up your torso and gripped your breasts, squeezing them as his thumbs flicked over your nipples. You could tell he was close by the way his member twitched inside of you, his strangled moans, and the feeling of his face contorting against your back.
"Need you to cum, baby." he breathed out, "I can't cum if you don't cum first."
"I need-" you began and it was like he read your mind, fingers heading straight for your throbbing clit and rubbing it side to side vigorously, causing you to breathe out, "Yeah."
It didn't take much longer before your body became numb with pleasure. You were trembling, screaming into the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white with how hard you were gripping the covers. Harry continued his movements to carry you through your orgasm, causing it to pulse through you in waves, euphoria completely clouding your mind.
You came down from your high with heavy breaths, the continued stimulation from his thrusts sending a new wave of pleasure over you. When it became too much, you whimpered and he pulled out, groaning painfully, "Where do you want me?"
"My back," you breathed out.
You laid down on your stomach and moved all your hair to your front, while he continued to pump himself to keep his orgasm from falling. Once you were in position, he pressed one knee to the bed to angle himself above you. It was only seconds before you felt the warm feeling of him painting your back with his creamy release, your jaw falling slack. Moans of pleasure fell from his lips as he worked himself through his orgasm, pleasure consuming his body just as it did you only seconds earlier.
Once he had milked the last of his orgasm, he immediately got up to grab a few tissues to clean you off.
"You okay, babe?" he asked while wiping the tissue across your skin.
"Mhm," you hummed in response, ready to just fall asleep in his arms.
Throwing away the soiled tissue, he stated, "All done."
You turned over onto your side and he laid down next to you, pulling you into him, breathing out, "Didn't lie when I said I always get you trembling under me, huh?"
You rolled your eyes teasingly at him, "You're so annoying."
"I love you. You know that, right?"
"I know. We still need to talk though. The problem didn't just go away 'cause you're good in bed."
He chuckled deeply, "Can we talk tomorrow? Just wanna hold you right now."
"Yeah, lemme go to the bathroom then we can go to bed," you replied as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom.
"Love you, sexy," he teased, landing a soft smack across the curve of your ass as you got up.
You giggled, "I love you too."
1K notes · View notes
justlemmeadoreyou · 3 months
Text
secret little rendezvous*
Summary: Part 1 of friends with benefits!harry series. It's going to be full of smut, and also a tint of angst.
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: SMUT!, kissing, dirty talk, degradation, p in v sex, jealous feelings
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"All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me."
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
Harry was fucked.
Completely, utterly fucked.
In his defense, he was tired. He had been running around his workplace the whole day, managing the work of 4 people because they wanted to “spend the holidays with their family”.
And here he is now, staring at anything else he could find, other than the warm cunt beneath him swallowing up his cock with each thrust. The wall, the headboard, the ridiculous stuffed toy near the pillows, anything,  just so he won’t cum before you.
He knew that if he looked down, he instantly would. Flood your pussy with the pent up load of this whole shit week he’s had.
But you don’t mind. Given the point of being friends with benefits with him is getting an equal share of everything, but he gets a pass because he can get you off with his fingers easily, something others can’t.
So, you try and push him. Squeeze tighter, moan louder and arch your back just a lil’ bit more just to make him cum faster.
“I know what you’re doing, won’t work” he lands a hard slap to your ass, earning another moan as he increases his pace. Wet, sloppy thrusts, each paired with his grunts and your moans.
He grips your waist, leaning in so his chest meets your back, nipping at your earlobe while biting your neck below your ear.
“Hey, fuck off, man. That could be seen” you slap his shoulder, and he nips off, giving you a particularly rough thrust, making you lurch forward. The headboard bangs against the wall repeatedly, his thrusts paired with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin.
“At least they’ll know you get laid” he remarks, and gets back up, feeling a bit held off, reaching a hand below and rubbing your clit.
“Fuck, that’s not fair” you whimper, legs giving out beneath you. You squeeze around him harder, gripping the sheets as you get closer and closer.
“I know, baby. That’s why it’s fun” another rough thrust into your sloppy wet cunt and you’re gone. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, toes curling as the orgasm washes over you. 
“Oh fuck!” you curse as you bite your lower lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an incredible orgasm.
He already knows.
He cums soon after, grabbing your hips harshly as his thrusts become slower and shallower, , his breaths ragged and uneven against your skin. He repeatedly curses, your name intertwined between them as he empties himself on your back.
“Fuck, that was good” he slaps your ass a last time, making you whine. You put yourself down on the bed, but not moving too much because of the cum on your back. He falls on the bed beside you, eyes closed as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed, a sly smile on his lips, face glowing in the afterglow.
He gets up soon after, almost as if he timed the 30 seconds he had taken to recover. He walks to the washroom with his dick still hanging out, closing the door behind him. You stare at the door till you hear the sound of the flush, and he comes out with some toilet paper.
He climbs back on the bed, reaching you and wiping his cum off your back. He wipes it down completely, though it takes some time given how much he had cum, throwing the used paper into the dustbin nearby. You want water, but he isn’t one to care for you once you’re done, other than wiping off his release.
“Can you-bring me water from the kitchen?” you ask, already knowing what his answer is going to be, and mentally cursing yourself afterwards.
“What am I? Your boyfriend or something?” he shakes his head, picking up his pants from the floor and quickly getting dressed.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to give me water afterwards.” you reply, putting your head back down on the pillow so he doesn’t say that you’re watching him dress.
“It doesn’t. But, I don’t do that shit. And you know that'' he raises his eyebrows, but you don’t look up. Not at least till he’s out of the room.
Seeing the lack of reaction, he gets his coat from the couch and his phone, his keys, before yelling for a last time, “Close your door”
You don’t reply again, and he storms out, slamming the door shut behind him.
You really wish he cared. 
Just a little bit, maybe?
>>>
“I don’t want to do it” you reply to Harry on the phone with a hand on your head, pinching the skin to relieve some of the pain from your head throbbing.
“You didn’t have any problem before. Whenever I called, you would say yes” 
Ugh, you really really wanted to throw the phone across the room. Or at his face. If he worked in your department, you would happily call him in your room, and slam the phone at him.
“Well, I do now. My head is killing me and if you don’t shut up soon, I’ll throw this at you when I see you next.”
“So tonight then? I’ll stay away from you”
What?
“What? Tonight? Why?”
“Dylan’s birthday”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck. And since he got you the “Special invite” you’re gonna have to be early for Dylan” he mocks you, because he had sent you a bouquet of flowers with an e-invite.
“Oh get over it.” you huff.
“Whatever. I’ll avoid you tonight. Don’t try and stick to my ass”
“You wish” 
With that, you cut the call.
>>>
Getting ready for the party, you were a mess. You did not want to go and get mocked by them for the bouquet, you did not want to see Harry and you did not want to leave the house either. It was so cold outside, and you would have to drive a good 4 miles because that bastard celebrates birthday like a teenager.
The party was average. There were only two people who teased you, Leah and Emily, oh, and Harry of course. Others had forgotten, and you were so grateful for that.
“So, you and Dylan. Huh” Harry came up to you, with a beer bottle in his hand. He was the one who told you to stay away from him, and here he was now, purposely coming and sitting near you.
“Shut up” you replied, taking a sip of your own drink.
You ignored him, looking anywhere else except him. You looked at the dance floor, where everyone was swaying their hips and moving with the music, the bar where they were serving drinks, anywhere.
And he did not like that.
“So, how was your day?”
You turned around 180 degrees, raising your eyebrows at him.
“What??”
“I said, how was your day? Or did your headache make you deaf?” another sip off his stupid beer.
“Seriously? Mr. Don’t stick to my ass is asking me” you pointed your fingers towards yourself “how my day was?”
“Yeah, I was just trying to make small talk”
“Well, wrong time. Shut up”
You went back to your own business, sipping your drink and ignoring him successfully. He seemed frustrated with you, and you were sure his nose was flared too. It was only for a few moments, because then his phone beeped. A message.
“Ah! Finally!” he drank the last few sips, and got up, throwing his unlocked phone beside you.
“Take care of it, will yeah? I’ll pay my bill and come back to take it”
That bastard.
It was a text from some Sophia, who was his hookup for tonight since you had said no. He wanted to show you that he had other people to sleep with, and that was why he threw his unlocked phone to go and pay for a drink from a party.
He really was a condescending dick, wasn’t he?
You sat there till you saw him turn back from the bar, and as soon as he was within your line of sight, you got up and left.
You saw him cursing while he picked up his phone, and he was most definitely cursing at you.
Not that you cared.
>>>
He didn’t call you for the next week, and a few more days after that. If he could act like a child just to tell you he has multiple hookups, something you didn’t really know about, you could at least pretend to not care.
Not that you did, no.
Next you two saw each other was at the Christmas party.
Some co-workers were bringing their kids, and so a few were asked to be dressed as Santa, Harry being one of them.
The Christmas party was more lively than stupid birthdays, and you were thankful for that. You had forgotten to book tickets to go back home, and last minute tickets were really not worth the raging dinner you had with your whole family. Most of the people would ask you about your boyfriend, when you were getting married, were you planning on having kids, how to raise them, where to raise them, all of which you didn’t want to worry about for at least the next two years. So, an office party followed by some takeaway and a Christmas movie marathon sounded perfect. 
>>>
Most people had arrived, and the place was buzzing with chatter and the slow sounds of Christmas carols playing in the background. Everyone was dressed great, adorned in festive attire with a Christmas hat perched on top of their heads. You had worn an oversized sweater, tucked in a pair of skinny jeans, and boots that you had bought a month ago. Wearing a Christmas hat, you didn’t look so bad yourself.
You took a drink from the top shelf that was made to be kept away from the children, and you wandered off, looking for Harry. He might be a bastard, but it was Christmas, so you could bear him for a while, say Merry Christmas.
Looking through the cabins, the corners, he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was struggling with his Santa costume.
You found him soon after, struggling in one of the supply closets with his beard stuck to the zipper.
“Fucking hell! Oh for fucks sake!” he was continously cursing, while trying to pull the zipper down with limited strength. If he pulled too hard, the poor rented dress would definitely tear off.
“Want some help?” you leaned on the doorway, bringing your hand up to your lips as you laughed at his misery.
He looked at you with his resting bitch face, putting both hands beside his waist. He might look all tall and intimidating, dressed in all red with a big bod, but to you, he looked like a child who couldn’t even get his clothes right, and always messed them up.
You chuckled, before going over to him, trying to up the zipper and untangle it from the fake hair.
“Yeah, I’ve already tried that, smarty pants” he said frustrated, and you reached for your pocket, pulling out your lip balm.
“What are you doing with that? You know this is rented right? Don’t put lip balm on this!”
“Yeah, old man. I know” he rolled his eyes, and you began rubbing some wax on the zipper to smoothen it down so it’ll slide easily.
“And don’t tell me you don’t know how dirty these rented outfits are. This beard you’re wearing” you pull at it lightly, making him grunt, “is filthier than our kitchen. And you know how dirty our kitchen is”
He shakes his head, “Whatever, I just have to wear it for 2 hours or something, and then I’ll return this back”. He watches you intently as you rub the wax on it, and after a few tugs up and down, it smoothes out, and the beard untagles. You zip him up, and the red outfit fits perfectly on his tall form.
You take a step back, eyeing him up and down, with a smirk on your face. He doesn’t look too bad, he is tall and the outfit he’d gotten fits him quite well. The long trousers, the ridiculously large shoes, the cap on top of his head, he kinda looks hot.
He notices you checking him out, and puts his arms around his chest, pretending to try and save his sanity from you.
“Miss Y/n, what are you going to do to me?” he takes a step back, voice low and husky. And just for the fun of it, you decide to play along. You step forward, your steps synchronizing with his steps back, and he goes back till he bangs with a cupboard.
He looks at you with utter fear in his eyes, and you can’t help but bite back a smile, going all the way and gripping his waist.
Tightly.
He sucks in a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He knows he can’t get too excited, or the next few hours will be a nightmare for him. 
You couldn’t be more tempted to put him into misery.
You pull yourself up, coming face to face with him, standing on your heels. He gulps down hard, knowing well how this will not end well for him.
You lean closer to his face, his lips just moments away from yours. Your hand shifts from his waist to his heart, which is beating widely in his chest. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead, and the tension between you is almost impalpable.
Your lips come closer and closer to his, and as soon as he lifts his jaw to kiss you, you pull back, and go for his neck instead. 
It’s difficult with the beard in between, but you manage to lick a long stripe from his shoulder to his jugular, feeling his pulse on your tongue. You reach back and open your mouth, baring your teeth as you bite on the skin, nipping and pulling slightly to make a mark.
And to your surprise, he doesn’t stop you. Lets you bite and suckle at his neck till there’s a proper mark blooming on the side of his neck, the skin turning red. Your tongue glides over the mark, soothing the slight sting as you continue to tease him. He moans, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, his hands finding your waist. It’s so easy-you could slide your hand down to his pants, squeezing his crotch and he’ll be done for. He’ll get hard and then be miserable while the kids ask to sit on his lap.
But you decide against it. Wearing that costume just for the little rascals to click pictures with him and make fun of him later. It was torture enough.
You pull back, and as expected, his pupils are blown out, eyes full of lust. And, as expected, he’s half hard.
You lick your lips, a little breathless as you look up at him. He looks down at you with the same lust and hunger, and you get week in the knees as he leans in and whispers, “You’re going to be sorry for that tonight” he reaches back and grips your ass, giving it a light squeeze, “on your knees”
Your stomach flips with anticipation as his words send shivers down your spine. You know what he means, and it only adds to the growing heat between your legs. You’re left with an open mouth as his grip on you is gone, and he leaves the room. You stand there for a good 5 minutes, before blinking rapidly and exiting the dark room to join the party.
The party was uncomfortable, to say the least. For both of you. You were hot and bothered, the wetness between your legs growing as you imagined him on top of you, his hands tangled messily in your hair as he fucked your face, drool and tears dripping down your face as his cock pushed in and out of your hot, wet mouth. His balls slapping against your chin, your nose deep in his trimmed pubes.The way his deep, husky voice would command you to open your mouth wider, to take him deeper.
You could almost taste him, the salty sweetness of his skin, the musky scent of his arousal. Your mouth watered at the thought of him filling you, stretching your lips and throat as he pushed himself deeper and deeper. And that was making your cheeks hot and red, thighs pressed together as you looked at him as if he was a meal, one which you couldn’t wait to devour.
And maybe someone else was looking at him the same way too.
Olivia, a co-worker, approached you a few moments later, a little bit tipsy because of how much she had been drinking since she got here.
“He looks so fucking sexy, doesn’t he?” she remarked, and you blinked, pulling yourself out of your imagination.
You don’t mind other girls hitting at him. Well you did, somewhat, till you found out he was hooking up with others as well.
“Hm?”
“Styles. He’s so damn hot. Can’t wait to fuck him in that santa costume tonight”
Oh no.
“What?”
“Oh you don’t know? He fucked me last Wednesday. Said his other hookup cancelled and he needed someone who didn’t mind. I said yes. I mean, “ she tilted her head, looking at him with a face that made you want to punch her. “What bitch would say no to that? Have you seen the ass on him? And his dick. Holy fuck. It’s so fucking bi-”
“Okay-I don’t want to hear about that” you stopped her before she practically drooled over him in front of you, and described how he fucked her.
“What? You don’t like to hear some good fucking. Oh come on, it’s not like you’re getting boned, are you? You’re so boring?” she rolled her eyes, before turning around and bumping her shoulder, walking away.
No way you waited 2 hours for him just to have her take him.
No fucking way.
With gritted teeth, you picked up your purse, and walked to Harry on the other side of the room. You pulled at his arm, to try and take him to the side to talk. He reluctantly walked, making you pull his huge body half the way.
“Hey, hey, patience, love. M’ not going anywhere. Can’t you wait for just a few more minutes? Then I’m all yours” he said with a smirk.
“Well, Olivia here was describing me how you fucked her last wednesday and how she was taking you home with her today. So, what is happening?”
“What? Olivia? Hell no. She’s super drunk, and I don’t want to be around her”
“Well, then hurry. Ditch this stupid party and…take me home.”
You whispered the last part, hoping you didn’t sound as breathless and desperate as you did. He was an asshole, but he was great in bed and the idea of her doing the same with you did with him, made you want to blech. 
“Awww, someone’s a bit romantic. You’re jealous, aren’t you love?”
Here we go.
“No! Why would I be jealous of that…that bitch?”
“There it is. Ugly emotion” he was smiling like a moron, and you felt so embarrassed. Jealousy, or any other emotion, wasn't supposed to be involved, but it eventually always does, doesn’t it?
“Alright, fine. Now shut up and take me home before I change my mind” you said with a frown, and began to walk away.
“Yes ma’am” he replied, following you closely.
>>>
Harry drove you both home, since you were drunk. You were sitting tilted with your back against the window, legs propped up on the sheet. He looked so sexy even when he drove, his jaw clenching every time there was a signal. He was rock hard in his pants, and he couldn’t wait to get home and fuck your mouth.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he slammed the horn, hitting the brake as the last signal before his street was on too. You giggled, biting your lower lip as you looked at him with doe eyes with your legs propped up on the front.
You leaned forward and turned on the radio, and he gave you a glare. As the song played on, you slowly hummed to the tune, twirling your hairs around your fingers and looking out the window. You were so nonchalant, and Harry did not like that.
“Do you have any idea how hard I am?” he growled, almost painfully. You had a complete idea of how hard he was. He had been so turned on since your encounter in the storage room, and seeing you jealous had probably egged him on even more.
“Hmm?” you turned your head and looked up at him with an innocent look, your hands crossed above your chest.
“Oh.” he chuckled, and you knew you had managed to reach his nerves, “Is it? You don’t know what I’m talking about?” 
You shook your head in a no, mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked angry, as well as horny. Pupils blown out and eyes full of lust, cheeks red. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly, while he was controlling himself so much you had no idea. Restraining himself from bending you over and taking you right there in the backseat.
The car came to a halt, and you saw that the signal was on. The last signal before you pulled up to his house.
Before you could blink, he had opened his seatbelt, and was reaching over to your side, pinning your hands to your chest with his wrist. The other reached down, pulling your sweater up and revealing the top of your jeans. You looked up at him with wide eyes, and a cruel smirk was painted across his face.
“Harry-harry, what are you-” you murmured while he undid the button, unzipping your jeans and pulling it down with a harsh pull.
His hand immediately found your panties, and he pulled them to the side, his cold hand making contact with your wet cunt.
You shivered and moaned at the contact, eyes falling shut as his fingers caressed your swollen nub. He pushed one finger in, and you were a goner.
Your legs squeezed shut, mouth parting open as his ring met your lips, the coldness making you whimper. His finger was longer and thicker than yours, and only one was enough to make your walls clench.
A horn blared from the car behind, and your eyes widened. You tried to move your hands, but he had pinned them down firmly, his finger still deep into your pussy.
“Harry-there’s someone behind-they can see you-harry-” 
You were stopped by a crushing kiss to your lips, and seeing you hesitant, he pulled his finger out. Pulling back from the kiss, he put the same finger into his mouth, sucking the wetness, eyes falling shut at your taste.
“Know people can see. Though that turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” 
You looked down at your unbuttoned jeans, cheeks turning hot and red at his admission. You had a bit of an exhibitionism kink, and people looking did  turn you on.
“Knew it. You’re a filthy little whore for me, aren’t you? Good god, I’m so going to fucking ruin you tonight”
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
You were holding on to that promise.
(part 2)
a/n: i spent wayy too much time writing this! no idea why? but i really liked the idea, and i just spiraled with it, and the next thing i know it turned into a series! anyways, let me know if you like this! if this gets enough notes, i'll definitely do a part 2! love you all!
please like, comment or reblog if you like this, i really appreciate every note 🥺🥺
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ghoststyles · 3 months
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You Should Probably Leave
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This one shot is inspired by You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton! Hope you enjoy.
3.4K. Smut. Fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, degradation, the works. hehehe.
The feeling of the pair of lips gently ghosting down your collar bone sends you back in time. A simpler time. Two college students madly in love, unsure where their lives would take them. 
You smile gently, drinking in the scene around you; a warm fire lit, a nearly empty bottle of red wine, and a pair of strong hands dancing around your post-baby curves. Throwing your head back, you gasp when he nips and sucks at the soft part of your neck. Pawing at his lap, his hard prick creates a noticeable tent in his pants. 
You had a long day. The baby is teething, your nipples are dry and cracked, and you haven’t had an adult conversation in what feels like weeks. It’s been Miss Rachel and Cocomelon until your ears bleed. You’re not sure if it was the wine, but it’s like you’ve been brought back to life. It helps that your husband, an esteemed surgeon, is on his 3rd 24-hour call shift in a two-week span, giving you plenty of time to occupy yourself.
It started off innocent, your friendship with Harry. Your heart stopped when you realized who moved into the house across the street just 6 months ago. The other moms fawned over the new single bachelor in the neighborhood, not realizing it was Harry. Your Harry. Your college boyfriend who you thought you’d run off into the sunset with and travel the world. 
In an effort to establish that you’re a married woman, you brought a fresh plate of cookies to his door, your husband in tow. Harry’s slightly perplexed and shocked look on his face when he opened the front door that day was quickly wiped away when your husband introduced yourselves to him. 
It wasn’t until a few days later when you got Harry alone. Would he act like he has no idea who you are? Or would it be like a single day hasn’t passed since you left him at your college graduation, not knowing about the ring in his pocket as your parents and grandparents celebrated around you?
You were going on different paths in life, after all. Harry was a risk taker; you, on the other hand, are someone who craves routine and discipline. That’s what you repeat to yourself, trying to convince your brain that he’s not the love of your life. Even 6 years later. 
You approach Harry as he is getting his mail one day. Looking around, making sure the nosy moms weren’t around, or your husband isn’t miraculously home from work. 
“Hi, Sunny,” Harry says, swallowing thickly. 
His words send a punch to your gut. The nickname he called you for over 4 years hits the same, even after all this time. Your husband’s terms of endearment don’t hold a candle to this. 
Hesitantly, you cross the street, your arms crossing over your chest to try and slow your beating heart. 
“Hi, neighbor. How’d that happen?”
“Are you the only one allowed to come back and live in their college town?”
Ice cold. You weren’t prepared for that kind of response. 
“Not at all. Just unexpected, I guess.”
“I think it’s my turn to do something unexpected.”
You nod, pursing your lips in anxiety. You turn to go back in your house, feeling defeated. 
“I don’t have social media. I didn’t know you lived here,” he replies gruffly. “If you want to come over for coffee tomorrow morning, you can. I work from home.”
“Okay,” you reply softly, unsure if this is a real invite. Scurrying into the house, you wipe away a small tear that formed in the corner of your eye. Fucking postpartum emotions. 
Your racing thoughts are brought to an end when Harry snakes his hand over your stomach. He moans at the excess skin and fat, knowing you brought a life into this world. Weekly coffee dates between neighbors turned into wine nights when the baby goes down. All unbeknownst to your husband and neighbors. 
He finally slides his hands in your panties, gently swirling your clit, sending your head back on his shoulder. The stress melts off your body when he inserts his middle finger. 
“Mhm, squeeze me, Sunny. Take what you need,” Harry pants in your ear quietly. The baby monitor rests on the side table next to you. 
High-pitched whines escape your mouth as he massages your g-spot gently. The angle isn’t allowing him to speed up his thrusts. You come, loudly, a few minutes later as Harry sponges more kisses on your neck and temple. 
Shifting to your knees, you simultaneously pull his pants down, his boxers following suit. His prick bobs up, smacking him in the stomach. You nearly keel over, excited to have your mouth on him, as if you haven’t been doing this several nights a week when your husband is at work. 
The ruddy tip is dribbling pre come, the perfect lubricant. Since he knows you’re dirty, you spit on him anyway. Harry lets out a mixture of a sigh and whine, desperate to feel your warm mouth on him. You take the plunge, trying to shove as much of him down as you can. It’s hard, but you manage to slightly swipe your nose on the hair at his base. 
He’s a man now. He was back then, too. But he’s a man now. The slight belly; a contrast from his rock hard abs in college. And his face is aged, but in a good way. His stamina remains unchanged. A few more sucks and pumps of his dick and balls sends him spiraling. Ropes of his come hit the back of your throat. You absolutely keen as he grunts and thrusts one last time.
With a pop, you slide your mouth off, looking at him with hazy eyes. You roll to the side, laying your chin on his meaty thigh, just above his tiger tattoo. 
Harry sighs, knowing what comes next.
I know it ain’t all that late but you should probably leave. And I recognize the look in your eyes, yeah, you should probably leave.
You cover up your bare chest with your sweater, pulling your discarded sleep shorts back on.
“He’ll be home soon, and I want to feed the baby one more time before bed. I hope you understand.”
Harry nods, his face unwilling to let on how much your words hurt. He stands, pulling up his pants and boxers, slipping his sweatshirt overhead. 
Harry understood the first time. And the second. And even the third. But, here you both are, months later, entertaining this completely heinous affair. But, he just can’t fucking let you go.
‘Cause I know you, and you know me. And we both know where this is gonna lead
You excused the lingering; the extra kisses. You’ve even let Harry stay in your bed until the minute your husband pulled into the driveway. It’s gone on too long, and you need to set boundaries. But you can’t fucking let him go.
You want me to say that I want you to stay, so you should probably leave
You know it’s wrong. You’re not naive. It’s not even about hurting your husband. The unmitigated amount of guilt that comes from leading Harry on is more than enough to send you straight to hell. 
It was dumb luck, Harry moving in across the street. He had to hear about your new life through mutual college friends for years as hestruggled in relationship after relationship. You went off and married a future doctor. A sure thing. At graduation, Harry scored a job in tech. Sure, the field was new at the time, but it wasn’t like he was taking a major risk. You got cold feet and fled.
Harry leans down to place one more chaste kiss on your lips before he wordlessly slips out the door toward his own house. You stare out the window after him until a shrill cry rings over the baby monitor, catapulting you into your reality.
And it’s hard to resist, just one kiss, then you should probably leave
~
When Harry knocks on your door around 11PM just two nights after the last encounter with an overnight bag in hand, you’re not sure what to say. The baby went down easier tonight, allowing you to feel more relaxed.
“I talked to him yesterday at the gym. He said he’d be on call at the hospital until tomorrow morning.”
You nod, confirming what he’s saying. Your husband kissed you goodbye after a failed attempt at intimacy this morning. You made up some excuse of feeling off, so he jerked himself in the shower while you laid in fetal position, the guilt eating you alive. 
Harry storms past you, immediately heading to your bedroom. The bedroom you share with your husband. The bedroom just down the hall from your sleeping baby. You sigh, closing the front door gently. 
Harry places his bag on the chair in the corner, taking note of the clothing strewn around the room. He’d hate to leave behind an article of his clothing that would expose their secret. Harry pulls his shirt off by the collar, baring his chest to you. 
It never fails to smack the wind out of you. His toned, tattooed abdomen is illuminated by the lamp in the corner. You place your palms on his pecs, leaning in for a hungry kiss. You can tell he doesn’t want to talk tonight. 
“Strip,” He demands in between kisses.
You meet his gaze, giving your best puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t buy it. You peel off your sleep shirt and shorts, leaving yourself in a pair of white panties.
“Face down, ass up, Sunny.”
A shrill whine escapes your frowning mouth. You put up little protest and situate yourself on the bed. It’s tantalizing, the hold he has on you. The history. The lore. The taboo nature of your relationship. If that’s what you can call it.
You crawl onto the bed, ignoring the framed photo from your wedding day on the bedside table. Harry stands at the foot of the bed, admiring your plump ass, a small wet patch forming in the gusset of the panties. 
Harry lightly palms your ass as you jam your head further into the comforter. He squeezes and pulls at the skin, debating where to start. He starts by rubbing his middle and ring fingers over the wet patch.
Increasing the pressure, he leans over you, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “I’m gonna eat you out, fuck you, fill you up, and we’re gonna keep these panties on. A little treat for when your husband comes home.”
Fuck. 
“Harry, fuck,” you stutter.
He’s now face to face with your backside. You feel one lewd, long, lick up your folds - through your underwear. It’s so, so good. In between licks, you hear him speak again.
“You know what I can’t figure out?” He asks, almost laughing to himself.
You dare not to respond, instead focus on his assault to your pussy. His grip on your thighs is that of the jaws of life, destined to leave marks.
“I’ve been fucking tearing this pussy up for,” he trails off. “Months, now? And your dumb fuck husband still has no idea? Not a clue about our history? How you were mine first? Does he even pay a crumb of attention to you?”
You cry out after a big swipe, the tickling feeling of the damp fabric on your pussy lips driving you wild. You’re holding back big, fat crocodile tears. You’re in this situation because you want to have your cake and eat it, too. 
“Tell me, Sunny. Does he fuck you with the lights off? Or a quickie in the shower? If he’s the love of your life, then why do you have to get attention from me? Hm?”
Fisting the comforter, the tears are now falling rapidly. You choke out a sob and clench your pussy around nothing. 
Again, you don’t answer his questions. Instead, he picks up the pace of his licks, focusing directly on your clit. He knows the left side is more sensitive than the right, so his tongue stays swirling in that direction. 
You come, quickly and loudly, smacking your hand against the bed. Harry chuckles to himself bitterly. Your head is still spinning, but you feel Harry peel back the gusset of the panties and slide the tip of his cock through the folds. 
He still has his pants on, but the buttons are popped open and his cock is sticking out over the band of his underwear. The edge of the lacy fabric touching the sensitive head makes him grunt out a moan. 
“Always so fucking needy. You need me, don’t you, Sunny? Tell me,” he mocks.
“I need you, Harry,” you whimper, your body ready to collapse to the bed. 
“Mm-mm. Tell me who you need right now, Sunny.”
“You, Daddy. I need you,” your wobbly lip makes you sound pathetic. 
He plunges in at your words, both of you gasping at the same time. You’re made for one another; You’re the lock and he’s the key. Even on the best nights with your husband, he gives you a mediocre performance at best. Your thrusts are never timed, and he refuses to talk dirty in your ear. 
“That’s right, Sunny. Good girl,” he mocks you again, his thrusts sending shockwaves throughout your body. You can feel his thumb trace around the edge of your asshole, making you mewl.
Harry leans over you, enveloping his body over yours. His lips ghost your ear again. The tone of his voice is low and sultry.
“Y’know what I think, Sunny girl?” he asks, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. “I bet you wish that sweet little baby in the other room was mine. Bet you wish it was me you walked down the aisle to.”
You gasp, heart stopping at the mention of your baby. Up until this point, you’ve been able to compartmentalize this part of your life. You start to protest, but he slips his right hand around your throat, squeezing gently. 
“Hm? Based on the way you’re squeezing me, I think I’m right,” the smug tone of voice is glaringly obvious. “Think of the life we could’ve had, Sunny. I think about it every day of my fucking life. Would’ve given you the world.”
Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin’ in my ear. And it’s gettin’ kinda hard for me to do the right thing here. I wanna do the right thing, baby
“I know,” you finally choke out. Your conversations during your romps remain light, usually. But, tonight. Tonight feels different. His grip on your throat tightens as you feel him start to slow his thrusts. "Fuck, Harry. I know."
“Thought I’d hit the lottery when you and your husband knocked on my door that day. Thought I’d been given a second chance. Finally have you forever.” 
He’s fully panting at this point, and you’re unsure how he’s even talking. You clench around him, making him moan again. He kisses your neck, sweat freely dripping all over both of you. Instead of burying deep in you, he pulls out slightly as he comes, coating the inside and outside of your pussy, and dripping into the panties. 
It’s lewd, and disgusting. But, it’s everything. 
Harry’s lifts his body from his place on top of you, the slight breeze his shifting caused making you shiver. Harry moves to a half standing position to grab his phone off the bedside table. He snaps a quick photo of the scene in front of him.
You look ethereal. Your perfect, plump ass is complimented by the underwear now doused in his scent and spunk. The contrast of the dry and wet parts of the panties has him wanting to jerk off again. 
Reluctantly, he pulls out, and uses his thumb to snap the fabric back in place. He doubts your husband will even give you the time of day once he’s home. But, it’d be an epic way for your secret to be exposed. 
It’s nearing 1AM, so Harry stands to go into your ensuite to fetch a towel. Now, you’ve fully collapsed into the bed. He gently wipes just enough cum from around your pussy and thighs. He leaves a majority of it for the treasure hunt.
You finally build up the strength and courage to pick up a discarded T-shirt on the floor. At the same time, he’s putting on a fresh pair of boxers from his bag. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eye as you start reeling over the degrading words that came out of his mouth. You have every right to be disgusted by him, but you can’t bring yourself to be. Because he’s not wrong. 
You’d made a mistake. You knew about 6 months into your marriage. You loved your husband. Or maybe the idea of him. You met him when he was 2 years into his surgical residency. The perks and the bragging rights of dating a doctor got to your head. Every date, every argument and every moment of adversity had you wondering what it’d have been like with Harry. 
Life with Harry was easy. You got the best of both worlds; a hot boyfriend and a fun social life. But, when your sister introduced you to a man with a full 8-year plan carved out, you chose the safe option. What a fuck-up that was. 
Harry climbs into the bed next to you, still not saying a word. That’s the thing. With Harry, you don’t have to. Your energies and emotions just work. He gently pulls you down so you’re laying horizontally on your side, and he slots his legs between yours, nuzzling his face in your neck. 
In this moment, everything feels right. 
~
Harry didn’t sleep much. He tried. But, something deep inside him was gnawing at his soul. His eyes were closed the whole night, but he never quite crossed the threshold into sleep. 
He still had all his five senses; the sliver of light from the lamppost outside; the slight white noise coming from the radiator; the smell of your shampoo mixed with the lewd activities of tonight; the feel of your hot skin touching his; and finally, the residual taste of your pussy on his tongue. 
The sun is rising now, signaling the end of your time together.
The sliver of light on your frame has his heart bursting with adoration. It’s true, what he’d said before. He does think about what your future would’ve been like. Your long eyelashes cast shadows on your slightly cherub cheeks. You would’ve made beautiful children. Gone on memorable family trips. And at the end of the day, fucking love each other.
Sun on your skin, 6AM and I been watchin’ you sleep. And honey, I’m so afraid you’re gonna wake up and say that you should probably leave. 
A year ago, Harry thought you’d leave your husband by now. But, as time goes on, his odds of getting you back are getting less and less. His heart is breaking all over again. 
You feel him stir, so you turn over and smile at him. You run your hands up and down his bare chest, feeling every prickly hair. He smiles back at you, not saying a word.
You finally pipe up, a clear, sad tone, “Y’know how much I hate saying this.”
“I should probably leave.”
You nod sadly, placing a kiss on his chest. It’s honestly a miracle the baby hasn’t woken up yet. Harry kisses you, his thumb grabbing your chin. It lasts a few minutes until you pull away. Your husband is due home in less than 45 minutes.
I want you to stay, but you’ll probably say that you should probably leave.
You should probably leave. 
Harry rises to sit at the side of the bed, grabbing his phone. 6:12 AM. You think he’s fiddling with his phone to prolong his stay. His bag is already packed by the door. You smile to yourself, happy to have your lover by your side. He places one last kiss on your forehead.
Before Harry stands, he sends off an email to his realtor, confirming the sale of his house. $15,000 over asking price. It was a private showing, with an agreement that Harry would be out of the house in two weeks. 
He already purchased a home — Approximately 1,326 miles away from this one. Everything is set. His mind is made up.
Harry stands, grabbing his bag. He takes one last look at you as he stands in the doorframe, an unreadable look on his face.
“Bye, Sunny girl.”
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braverytattoos · 1 year
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Harry flirting with Stanley Tucci 
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2010 vs 2023  |  Inspo.
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allthelovehes · 7 months
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Unholy*
Summary: You follow a course through your job and the teacher who's giving the course is everything you've ever dreamed of.
Pairing: teacher!harry x reader
Word count: 6.2K
Warnings: Pussy eating, protective sex, squirting, p in v.
A/N:  This is partially based on a true story. Nearly everything but the smut is what actually happened and I just had to write it.
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Ever since starting your new job, you must attend an internal program at headquarters for three-ish months, completely designed to train you for all the ins and outs of your position. It’s not like you have to go there every single week. But you have a perfect little schedule; you go to headquarters two weeks in a row, two days a week followed by a week where you practice all you’ve learned. Then two weeks of your training, two days a week and you repeat it over and over again for 11 weeks total. 
Since headquarters is an hour and fifteen-minute drive from your home, they offer you to stay the night at a hotel near them so you don’t have to keep on driving back and forth. They also pay for your dinner in the restaurant of the hotel and since you’re not the only student taking the course who lives relatively far away, you made some friends and all eat together. After dinner, you all hang out, down a few more glasses of chardonnay, and have a great night. 
The course itself is presented by two men, Chris and Harry. Chris is a couple of years older than you are and Harry is roughly the same age. Both of them are a treat to look at so whether you like the course or not, there’s always something interesting to occupy your brain with. Although if you’re truly honest, you do have a favorite and it gets worse when the end of the three months is in sight.
***
It’s the second to last week of your program. Normally you travel by train, read a book while you’re at it, and enjoy the peaceful start of your day. But today was different, you’re a bit in a hurry and decide to take your car and make the long ride yourself. Putting up some music and singing along at the top of your lungs.
Traffic isn’t as bad as you expected and instead of being stuck in your car for over two hours, it only took one and half hours. Normally the route is packed with traffic, causing a lot of slow-riding cars and traffic jams. But again, today was different.
Being 55 minutes early before the start of your training, you’re left with some more time to yourself. The book you normally would read on the train is in your bag anyway. So you grab a cup of coffee, pull the book out of your bag, and start reading to somehow still get a bit of the quiet morning you’re used to. 
You just finished reading your chapter when the door of the room swings open. You look up and your eyes meet the pretty green eyes you’ve grown to adore. You never imagined you’d still crush as hard at 26 as you did at 16. It’s like the teen inside you is awakened by Harry’s chocolate curls, green eyes, and puffy lips. 
“Good morning!” You greet him.
“Good morning. You’re early!” He chirps with a warm smile on his face. He always seems cheerful, just happy to be here. It makes you feel so welcome in this company. “How long have you been here for?” He adds.
“Not more than 15 minutes I think, honestly didn’t really track time.” You answer.
“Did the elevator work when you got here? I just had to climb the stairs.” He continues, there’s not even a shortness of breath even though he just climbed all 17 flights of stairs to reach the level on which the company is located. 
“You’re kidding! How are you still breathing?” You joke, but you’re actually not kidding. If you had to walk all those stairs, you’d be out of breath by the time you reach the 5th floor. Harry however just laughs at your statement before he puts down his backpack behind his desk. 
He made up this little routine of settling down for the day. First, he places down his backpack and takes out his laptop. Then he opens his laptop to boot it before he pulls his sweater over his head. This man doesn’t like to wear coats, he just puts a sweater on top of his outfit and uses that to keep himself warm. 
You thought you sort of removed him from your mind after not seeing him for a couple of weeks. Harry went on a well-deserved vacation and Chris took over during that time. So the last time you actually saw Harry was 5 weeks ago. But the second he pulled that sweater of his over his head, pulling his shirt a tiny bit upwards in the process had you melting right in front of him. The waistband of his boxers peeks out from his pants. You immediately recognize the brand he’s wearing by the colorful print on them. And let’s not even get started about his delicious happy trail. It’s a good thing his view is blocked by the fabric of his sweater because you for sure are struggling to keep your eyes to yourself.
“So, would you like some coffee?” He suggests as he folds his sweater over the back of his chair. You’re quick to agree on his offer. “Cappuccino right?” 
“Yes, please! I’m surprised you remember how I like my coffee.” You giggle, feeling a blush creep upon your cheeks. 
***
Throughout the entire day, you can’t help but notice how Harry’s eyes meet yours a lot more often than he does with your classmates. Whenever you look at him, his eyes are already on yours. He compliments you when you’re working on assignments and you just feel like there’s a mutual connection there. 
His distance to headquarters is even bigger than yours, so they offered him a similar deal as they did you. If he has to work multiple days in a row, he can stay the night in between in the same hotel as you all do. He gladly took upon the offer, for him it’s at least a two-hour ride home and that’s if he doesn’t include traffic. And since he works 5 days a week, it’ll save him a lot of time.
During the lunch break, you and your friends are making plans for the evening. Many of your nights in the hotel are spent drinking some wine and just catching up with each other. And today’s plans are like no other. Harry can’t help but overhear you guys talking about the hotel and starts bragging about the room they gave him. 
“I slept in room 405 last week. Apparently, all rooms on the fourth floor are deluxe rooms with a bathtub, double bed instead of a twin bed, and a filled mini fridge.” He joins your conversation, immediately planting the idea of asking for room 405 when you check into the hotel later today.
“I never had a bathtub during any of my stays. But all six times I slept in that hotel, I never slept on the fourth floor.” You reply.
“Don’t worry, you’re not missing out. The tubs are too small anyways.” He reassures.
“Your legs are just too long to properly fit into any tub.” You pointed out. 
***
All of you enjoy your dinner together. Harry is always left at work for a bit longer after you’re done with the class so he can prepare for the next day or finish up some other leftover work. And to the question of whether he will join you all at the dining table, his answer is always the same. “If I make it in time, I’ll happily join.” 
And today was one of the days he made it in time. He sits next to you in the only chair that’s unoccupied. Your friend shoots a glance at you, and that’s when you realize she made sure you sat next to the empty spot.
All of you welcome him to the table before starting small talk.
“Oh, by the way, Harry, I meant to thank you for your advice.” You start causing a confused look on the man’s face.
“My advice?” He asks. “What did I tell you?”
“When I was checking in I asked for room 405 and now I ended up in a deluxe room just like you told us about earlier today.” You giggle.
“Hold on, what room are you in??” He asks, clearly even more confused than he was at the beginning of this conversation.
“407.” 
“Ah, right! You got me confused for a second as I am booked in room 405 again.” He explains. “So, we’re practically neighbors!” 
Your brain spins a bit at how coincidentally it is of you asking for the exact room Harry is in. And on top of that, you are indeed practically neighbors. Suddenly you feel glad that you aren’t actual neighbors for the night, cause the rooms are very noisy and there’s a dividing door between every other room, allowing them to connect two rooms if needed. You’re not sure what your nighttime activities will turn into, once you’re left alone in your hotel room with just your unholy thoughts of the man next to you. 
Your food gets served, you and Harry both choose a different dish. He chose the tilapia filet and you went for a steak. Both are served with some veggies and fries. 
“That steak looks good.” He says as he puts a bit of fish into his mouth. 
“Would you like to try some?” You ask him to which he agrees. His fork is all covered in the sauce that comes with the fish. So, you cut off a piece of steak and hold your fork out for him to take it. He hums softly as the taste of the steak hits his tastebuds, sending vibrations through your fork. 
Harry insists on you trying some of his fish too. So he cuts a piece of, similar as to how you did it and holds his fork out for you to try it. 
You’re not much of a fish eater but you can see how people like this particular dish. It’s good as far as how good fish get. 
***
After hanging out with your friends on the terras, drinking some wine. All of you decide to call it a night. It’s nearly 11 p.m., and all of you need to be up bright and early the next day for your course. 
You hop into the elevator together, all of you pressing different buttons for different floors. Soon enough you’re the last one standing as you’re the only one whose hotel room is located on the top floor, and Harry’s of course.
Your pace slows down when you reach room 405. A deep voice is heard on the other side of the door. This confirms your suspicions, Harry is still up. It seems like he is currently on the phone with someone as a one-sided conversation is heard from his room. You decide not to snoop around, for all you know he’ll walk out the door any second and see you lingering around his door. That’d be weird.
Once you reach your door, you open it with the card and enter the room. You were smart enough to turn on the air conditioning before heading down for dinner so the room was cooled perfectly. 
You let yourself fall backward on your bed with a deep sigh. This massive crush on what essentially is your teacher was unexpected. And now you’re full of nerves, jitter, and a lot of unholy thoughts to think about.
You open up your book and try to set your mind in another direction. You have to face the man you’re thinking about tomorrow and above all you need to be able to concentrate. 
After 45 minutes of reading your mind is still on the one topic it was before. So the plan to distract yourself failed miserably. The only other option you can consider is taking a cold shower, cause there’s no way in hell you can masturbate to the thought of him and look him in the eye tomorrow.
You hop into the shower. You start at your regular temperature and decrease the temperature with small steps to end with a cold shower. Your hands travel over your body and you notice how sensitive your skin is. You take some soap and spread it all over your skin. Once your hands reach your breasts you give some extra attention to your achy nipples, pinching them between your fingers. You moan softly, god that feels good.
You realize what you’re doing and stop immediately, turning the water ever colder causing you to nearly squeal at the temperature. You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your body. 
As soon as you’re all dried up, you crawl back into your bed and grab your phone to scroll mindlessly through TikTok. First, you clear your notifications but you notice one particular Instagram notification that catches your eye.
harrystyles liked your story 8m ago
It’s fucking past midnight, what is this man liking your Instagram story for?? As if you weren’t thinking about him enough already. 
You decide to get out of bed and go outside for a little midnight stroll. The cool and fresh air will do you good. You take your AirPods out of your bag so you can listen to some music while you're at it. 
You’ve been walking for about 25 minutes when you step back into the elevator and press the button to the fourth floor. Harry has finally disappeared from your mind, I mean, he’s still there but just less present. You are tired and just need your sleep.
Room 407 is two-thirds down the hall, luckily the floor is covered with carpet so your feet don’t make as much sound. You don’t want to wake anyone up at this ungodly hour. Nerves kick back in the closer you get to room 405. What if he’s still awake, or what if you woke him up when your door fell closed on your way out?
The sound of a door opening is heard and you’re too afraid to take your eyes off the floor. It takes every bit of strength in you to lift your head up, but when you finally do, your eyes are met with the ones you’ve been thinking about all night. He’s changed out of his dress pants and blouse and into a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants.
“Oh, hi.” You mumble. Fuck, you think. You did wake him up on your way out. And now he’s here to complain about it.
“Hi.” He replies in a whisper. Harry heard you walk through the hallway, at least he was hoping it was you. But now that he’s standing eye to eye with you, he suddenly becomes nervous and doesn’t know what to say.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up when I left my room.” You apologize. 
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been struggling to fall asleep anyway.” “Yeah, me too. I’m gonna go give it another try though.” You point to your door, gesturing for you to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait!” Harry whisper-yells. “I- uhm. Do yo- uh.” He stumbles over his words. You turn your body back to him, looking at him with your big eyes.
“Do you wanna come with me to my room?” He finally asks and he holds out his hand for you to grab. You’re taken by surprise but after looking at him for a bit too long you grab his hand with a little nod and let him lead the way. 
He closes his fingers around yours and takes a couple of steps back to his room, opening the door with his room key. He steps inside the room, holds the door open, and pulls you in by your hand. The door is slammed closed right after you’re through the opening and Harry's strong arms push you against the door. 
“Hi.” He says giddy when looking at your lips, earning a smile from you.
“Oh fuck, just kiss me already.” You demand, and he is eager to please. 
His lips crash onto yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. He’s gentle but demanding, it’s nothing like you ever thought it would be. This kiss makes you realize what people mean by melting when they’re being kissed. It’s like every inch of your body becomes one with his.
Your fingers graze his hair, pulling him closer as his hands find their place on your hips. He pushes his body flush against yours, earning a moan from your lips. The fingers of his right hand sneak under the hem of your shirt to dig into your skin. 
He pulls away after what feels like minutes of making out, panting slightly. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt and he looks down.
“Can I?” He asks to which you agree. Your shirt is pulled over your head in a swift motion, revealing your peach-coloured bra. Suddenly you feel glad you decided to put on a bra when you went for a walk because you nearly decided to not wear one.
“Fuck.” He moans at the sight of you. His hand comes up to cup your left breast through the padding of your bra. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses your neck, up to your ear. You gain confidence from his words and let your hands travel over his chest, down his sides all the way to the hem of his own shirt. You look him in the eyes for permission. 
“Do it.” He whispers in your ear while he keeps on kissing every inch of your ear, neck, and jawline. You pull the shirt over his head revealing his perfect abs. You can’t help but put one hand flat on his stomach to feel his muscles and moan softly. Your eyes meet his and he has a beautiful smile plastered across his lips. 
His lips are back on yours and his fingers hook in the waistband of your jeans. He’s greedy to get you out of your clothes as soon as possible. He opens the button. His left hand grabs your face and he kisses you passionately on your lips as he puts his right hand in the back of your jeans to squeeze your bum. 
“Hmm, you feel so good.” He squeezes your flesh one more time before he pushes the fabric over your ass. You step out of your jeans and push him further into the room. Your lips reconnect. 
Harry leads you to the chair in the corner of the room and pushes you down in the chair. Your eyes fall down his body and stay glued to the tent starting to form in his sweatpants. His fingers wrap underneath your chin to pull your face up. 
“Eyes up here, baby.” He says. He spreads your legs to stand in between them and strokes his hand over your inner thighs, to your stomach, and up to your lips. He puts his thumb against your lips with his fingers resting on your cheek. You open your lips and softly suck on his thumb getting it slightly moist. 
He takes his finger back out of your mouth and his hands explore down to your chest. Both hands grab one boob each and massage your skin through your bra. He makes sure to flick his thumbs over your hardening nipples every now and then. 
You sink further down into the chair, practically laying on your back with your bum on the edge of the seat. Your feet are tucked around his waist and your legs are spread open to reveal your clothed crotch. Harry is standing right in front of the chair, causing his crotch to gaze over your most sensitive spot when he moves close enough. 
You moan at the pressure he’s applying to your chest. His big hands fit perfectly around your tits and it’s all you’ve been thinking about. Well, not all, but you get the point.
He pulls down the cups of your bra, to expose your breasts. Your nipples are hard and needy. His lips attach to your right nipple to suck on them before he lets go and gently strokes his fingers down your stomach, back towards your inner thighs. The soft touch of his fingertips tickles, sending a buzzing feeling straight to your clit.
He kneels in front of the chair you’re sitting on and wraps his hands around your waist. He places a couple of kisses on your thighs, right next to your core. But never touching where you need it most. He’s making you all needy, drawing moan after moan. 
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Harry asks. But the view in front of him already gives him the answer he is looking for. You’re dripping through your panties, completely ruining them and every touch is rewarded with another moan coming from your lips.
“Mhm, fuck yes.” You half moan.
Harry finally places a kiss on the wet spot forming on your panties. You immediately put your hand in his hair. After a few more open-mouthed kisses on top of the fabric, he finally pulls them to the side. He lets out a low moan at the sight and smell in front of him. 
He attaches his lips to your core, leaving another open-mouthed kiss on your labia before he sucks the juices into his mouth. Another loud moan escapes his lips, you’re sure anyone who’d walk by would be able to hear the both of you.
“You taste so fucking good, baby.” Harry moans. He pushes your panties further to the side and you help him hold them there, giving him full access to taste every single inch of you. He licks up from your bottom all the way to your clit and you can’t help but whine. He continues to gently lick around your clitoris, making sure not to apply too much pressure at once. It feels like pure ecstasy. 
His hands stroke the insides of your thighs again while they travel to your core. With two hands, he spreads you open to allow him to stick his tongue inside of you. He pushes in and out of you a few times before his tongue travels back to your clit. Licking and sucking softly, building up the pressure. He for sure is taking his time with you. His eyes are locked on yours to gauge what you like and don’t like. But so far you seem to have entered another world. With your left hand locked in his hair and your head thrown back.
Harry starts to put more pressure on your clit with his tongue making you all squirmish. Your soft moans go up in loudness. His lips leave your clit but his finger is quick to stroke circles around it before he inserts his finger into your pussy hitting you right on that spongy part. His finger pushes in and out of you and his tongue gently swipes from left to right. 
He applies even more pressure to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud every now and then. His one finger inside of you pumps in and out, building up a faster pace. More juices start to spill from your pussy so he licks from down all the way up to your clit again to collect your wetness and slurp it all up. It’s a sign you’re coming close to your orgasm. Your legs start shaking around his shoulders and he continues his work, going faster and sucking harder.
Soon you can’t contain your moans and your orgasm hits you harder than it has ever done before. Harry’s fingers don’t seem to slow down though, and his tongue is still attached to your sensitive clit. Your moans turn into high-pitched whines mixed with curse words falling from your lips.
“Fucking hell, please” You moan, trying to push his face away from your cunt. His finger falls from your pussy and he softly caresses your mount with a flat hand, his lips are still attached to your clit but he stopped sucking as he moans loudly. The vibrations of the sounds he’s making shoot right through your body. He completely removes his face from you and wipes the wetness from his chin. 
“God, I wanna do that again. You sound so fucking pretty.” He tells you before he connects his lips to yours. The tangy taste of yourself is all you can focus on, making you feel dizzy. 
Harry looks you up and down. He gets up off his knees so he can finally drop his sweats to the floor. The erection in his loose-fit boxers makes you curious, but it gives you a good idea of how big he is. 
He holds out his hand for you to help you get up from the chair. His arms wrap around your body once you’re on your feet and he kisses you deeply. His hands take hold underneath your bum. 
“Jump.” He commands and you listen without a second thought. You wrap your arms around his middle and his erection softly presses into your core. You moan and nestle your face into his neck. Your hips try to grind down on him, although you’re not as successful as you’d hoped. Harry walks to the end of the bed to place you down. 
“Let’s get you out of these.” You say as you put your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. You pull them down so he can step out of them. He pushes you on your shoulders, tipping you over so you’re lying on your back and his hands hold your knees to spread them open again. With one hand he pumps his cock a few times and with the other, he pushes your panties back to the side before he pushes the tip of his cock through your folds. 
“Shit, a condom.” He curses. “I don’t know if I have one.” He says honestly. It’s not like he thought he was getting laid during his work trip so he didn’t pack any. He rushes to his wallet in hopes of finding one in there. He opens the coin section and is happy to be greeted by a silver foil. He takes it out before he returns to you and puts on the protection. 
He goes back to what he started. He rubs the tip of his now rubber-covered cock over your clit, stimulating the sensitive nub. You immediately are a moany-mess again before he slides his tip down and inters your cunt. He pushes in and out, going deeper with every thrust. His thrusts are gentle as he knows you’re close to being overstimulated. 
His hands hold your thighs down before he starts moving back and forth at a faster pace. He bends down to attack your right nipple with his mouth. He sucks sharply and licks over the hard bump. 
The bed starts squeaking loudly when he holds you down around your hips to be able to fuck up into you faster. His skin slaps against yours making the most erotic sounds audible in the hallway and possibly in the neighboring rooms. 
Harry wraps his hand around your neck, not really applying pressure but just holding you in place as he trusts into you slower but with more power. Smacking his pelvis against your clit with every trust. Your panties slipped back down covering half your labia again. 
“Let’s get these out of the way.” You laugh. Harry pulls out so you’re able to remove your underwear but he’s back inside of you as soon as possible. He’s bucking up, trying to hit your G-spot every time he pushes in. And he knows he’s doing a good job as your moans went up a pitch again. 
He grabs your hips and keeps fucking you hitting your G-spot hard every, single, time. The trusts change from hard and deep to soft and fast. Giving you a whole other sensation. He keeps switching between the two different paces until he finds you squirming underneath him again. He bucks his hips hard and deep into you and after a few more trusts you reach your second orgasm, screaming and squirting all over him. 
You were about to apologize but Harry has already attached his lips to your cunt to lick up all the leftover juices. He’s moaning loudly as he’s trying to clean you up. Your own moans become quieter and turn into soft hums as you nestle your hand into his hair, grabbing him tightly. 
He starts assaulting your clit like he used to when you were sitting in the chair. His tongue is doing wonders on your overstimulated clit and it only takes a couple of strokes of his wet muscle to get you to reach your height again. This time however it feels shorter and less intensive, but still your moans picked up again. It’s like music to Harry’s ears.
“Fuck, Y/N, you are so fucking perfect.” He moans, kissing you sloppily. His hips meet yours and both of you hum to the feeling. Harry takes a hold of his cock and guides it back inside of you. His hips grind over yours, giving you way too much stimulation but god does it feel good. 
He places his left foot on the bed next to your bum and starts pounding into you. He puts one of his hands on top of your mouth as you can’t contain any of the sounds you’re making. Harry knows it’s already too late when it comes to waking up the neighbors but he doesn’t wanna keep bothering them all night.
Never have you been fucked this hard, fast, and deep all at the same time. It’s starting to feel overwhelming and you can’t stop whining at how good you feel. Harry keeps miraculously pounding into you as he starts to moan loudly himself as well. 
His moans send shivers down your spine, he sounds otherworldly. The deeper his moans get, the sloppier his trusts become. He spills all of his cum inside of the condom before his moans quiet down and he pulls out. He’s panting loudly and he gently swats the back of your thigh twice. He rubs his cock up and down your pussy one more time before he kneels down again and licks your pussy clean. 
“Stay where you are.” He says and places a quick kiss on your lips. He walks to the bathroom to toss the condom and grab a damp towel to properly clean you up. He dabs the lukewarm towel to your overstimulated core and softly strokes the fabric down once or twice. He puts the towel down on the floor where all of your juices squirted in an attempt to minimize the mess.
“There, now let’s get comfy.” He says and gets into bed. “Do you want a shirt?” He asks to which you nod. He gets up to grab his white tee from before and hands it to you. It smells deliciously like his skin in the best way possible. You put it on and it reaches up to your upper thigh. 
Harry lays back down in bed and you crawl next to him. He naturally opens his arms for you to cuddle up to him. 
“I‘ve never been fucked that good.” You chuckle as you take a deep breath. The room smells and looks like sex but neither of you seems to care. 
“Hmm, you felt so good.” Harry’s ego boosts at your comment. And if he’s honest, he’s never been with someone he enjoyed so much and he simply can’t wait to do it again. “I hope you’re going to stay the rest of the night, right?” He asks. 
“I didn’t plan on getting up, I’m way too comfortable here.” You reply to which Harry only pulls you in closer. He places a soft kiss on your forehead with a soft hum. 
“Goodnight, baby.” He whispers to which you answer a simple goodnight. 
***
You wake up the next morning with Harry’s body wrapped around yours. The sound of your alarm was ringing from the nightstand. It’s a good thing you charged your phone last night when you were trying to sleep otherwise it would’ve been out of power and therefore not been awakened. 
“What time is it?” Harry asks, his voice low and sexy as he’d just woken up. 
“7:30.” You answer, to which he shoots up. 
“Shit, I forgot to set my alarm. I need to be at work in an hour.” He sighs, but actually, he doesn’t really care. He has the most beautiful girl lying in his bed, breakfast can wait for once and he can also head to work half an hour later, he already prepared everything for today anyway. 
He lays back down and rolls on his side to face you. 
“Hi.” He says. 
“Hi.” You reply, and both of you laugh softly. 
“So, I hope you have no regrets from last night. I didn’t mean to push you into anything you didn’t want.” Harry says, to which you take his face between your hands to pull him closer. You connect your lips to his. 
“Not one single bit.” You reply before Harry deepens the kiss. His cock is already hard, as most men wake up with an erect member. But the beautiful girl in his T-shirt next to him is making him lose his mind. 
His hands travel down her side and cup her pussy. One finger gently slides between her already damp lips and rubs circles around her clit. 
“Har, we don’t have time for this.” You whine and he knows you're right. He sighs before he takes his fingers back from your pussy and licks the tip of his finger clean. 
“I’m sorry. You’re just irresistible.” He flirts. 
“It’s gonna be a long day then.” You joke, neither of you had thought about having to go through today and act like nothing has happened. 
“We’ll see about that.” He argues as if he doesn’t think there’s going to be a lot of tension. “Let’s just get ready for breakfast.” He says and gets out of bed to get dressed. 
You sit up and think for a bit. All your stuff is two rooms down the hall and you don’t feel like getting into your nasty clothes from the day before, especially those panties which are ruined. 
“Can I borrow your sweatpants for a bit?” You ask Harry. “I need to go to my room to get ready.” You explain. He grabs his sweats off the floor and hands them to you. You’re now wearing the complete outfit Harry was wearing when he pulled you into his room. 
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You say before kissing him once again and head out to your own room. 
You took a quick shower to rinse off the sweat of the night before, brushed your teeth, and got dressed in a fresh set of clothing. 
When you’re all set and ready, you grab your room key and exit your room. You walk the short distance down the hallway to Harry’s room and raise your hand to knock on his door but he already has it opened before your hand can hit the wood. 
“Let’s go get some fuel.” He says and grabs you by your hand. He leads you all the way to the elevator. He pressed the button to the ground floor where the breakfast buffet was. 
The elevator stops at the second floor. You quickly pull your hand back as you know there are classmates sleeping on that same floor. And since Harry and you haven’t discussed anything about how to move forward, you’d rather not get the confrontation in the middle of an elevator. However, luckily it wasn’t someone either of you knew. 
Once the both of you enter the restaurant, Harry a few steps ahead of you, you notice all your classmates who also slept in the same hotel already sitting at your designated table. 
“Wow Harry, we thought you had already left. You’ve never been this late before.” One of them recalls. 
“Yeah, you’re always the first to eat and the first to leave.” Someone else joins in. 
You don’t know where to look or what to say. It feels like getting caught as you are well aware of the reason why Harry hasn’t eaten yet. Both of you decide to go fill up a plate with a delicious breakfast and just try to ignore the comments. 
“I feel like we’re already getting caught.” You tell him as you stand next to him putting some eggs on your plate. 
“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, there’s no way for them to know.” He reassures. 
You sit back at the table before Harry does. He’s in line for the coffee machine. 
Your friend looks at you. “Spill. The. Tea.” She mouths so no one can hear, but you can see. You giggle to yourself and shake your head no. But she just knows something is up. 
Harry walks back to the table with two cups of coffee. He puts the black coffee in front of himself and the cappuccino next to your plate. 
“Thank you, ba-“ You quickly stopped saying what you wanted to say, hoping no one had noticed. You look around the table but there are no suspicious looks. Harry places his hand on your knee and squeezes softly. 
“You’re welcome.” He says. 
Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗
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sweetestthang · 8 months
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“Styles is teddy bears on your teenage bed, perfect handwriting on thank you cards, picked flowers on Sunday morning, puppies running on fresh-cut grass, Grandma's favorite homemade cake.” ⚘️
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sunkissedlouis · 2 months
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thirty, flirty, and thriving!
happy birthday, harry! 🎂💖
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kiwikiwiandkiwi · 1 year
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— Harry after winning the Grammy Award for Album of the Year with Harry's House
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freedomfireflies · 11 months
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Love Me*
Summary: The fifth and final part to Teach Me*
You and your best friend Harry have a few things to figure out.
So, why not figure them out while you're riding his face?
Word Count: 8.1k
*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!*
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“Watermelon.”
Instantly, you go deathly still, muscles straining as the word echoes around the walls of your mind. Repeating itself over, and over, and over.
You attempt to sit up, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps his arms around you like a vice, caging you against his chest as his heart races beneath your cheek.
“What’s wrong?” you whisper, a certain ringing in your ears that won’t quiet. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
Somehow, his touch constricts even tighter, snaking around your ribcage as if to suffice as his reply.
“Harry?” you ask a bit louder, and you feel him stiffen at the sudden volume. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
He’s quiet. Far too quiet as his chin meets the crown of your head. 
“Harry,” you stress for a third time. “What happened? What is it? If you’re gonna use your safe word, you have to tell me—”
“Nothing,” he breathes, fingers digging into the skin on your side. Bracing himself from the truth. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Never mind?” you nearly gasp as he finally lets go, allowing you to scramble upright. “Harry…you can’t say that and then never mind—”
“I didn’t mean to say it,” he mumbles, meeting your eye for only a moment before his lashes flutter and he looks off into the bedroom. “I just…I forgot. It’s nothing. Everything’s fine, okay? Just forget it.”
He pushes himself up as you climb off the bed, but your attention never leaves him. Studying his expression closely to find the real answer. 
“Harry…” you venture cautiously, and again, you catch the way he hesitates. “If I did something—”
“No.” His answer is instantaneous, head shaking once before he looks up. “No. I told you, it’s fine. Really—”
“It can’t be fine if you said it—”
“Well, I didn’t mean to—”
“How can you not have meant to? What were you trying to say? Nothing else really sounds like watermelon—”
“Just…forget it, okay?” he sighs as he stands up and reaches for his boxers. “What’s the opposite of watermelon? I’ll say that.”
“Harry,” you huff for the hundredth time. “You…look, if there’s something we need to talk about—”
“There’s not.” The conviction in his voice is final as he proceeds to slip his shirt back on. 
You’re slow to do the same, shimmying back into your clothes while also trying to maintain his focus. “We agreed that this only worked if we talked to each other. If we trusted each other—”
“This has nothing to do with trust, Bee,” he insists as he glances over at you. “I told you, it’s fine—”
“It’s not fine.” You nearly want to whine at his stubbornness. You’ve known him long enough to understand his little tricks. His tells. The way he avoids confrontation.
The way he avoids how he really feels.
“It is,” he says again, now brushing past you toward the door. “Okay? So…please. Just forget it.”
“I can’t forget it,” you argue as you follow him to the kitchen. “It’s a safe word for a reason. It means that you can say it and feel safe. That you can tell me what’s wrong, and what you’re thinking—”
“I don’t—” he begins before his eyes squeeze together and his jaw clamps shut. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Okay? I just…I wanna drop it. So let’s drop it.”
You watch as he braces himself against the kitchen sink, hands gripping onto the tub as he leans back and aims his glare at the floor.
And it hurts. It hurts to go from happily content in his arms to anxiously dejected a few feet away.
It hurts to know that there’s clearly something wrong that he refuses to share. Hurts to know you can’t help. Even after everything.
You taught him how to touch you.
But not how to talk to you.
You straighten up. “Fine,” you agree. “Fine, we’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
The small space falls quiet as you do your best to ignore the ever-present ringing in your ears.
Dropping it doesn’t fix it.
But you don’t know what else to do.
“I think…I think I’m gonna go,” you whisper, already taking a step back.
His head lifts, lips parting as he watches you move away from him. “Oh…okay.”
Despite it all, you wish he’d ask you to stay.
After retrieving your things from his room, you head for the door to his apartment, your heart dragging behind you on the floor.
He doesn’t move from his spot. He doesn’t chase after you or try to explain. He watches you walk away from him as if he always expected you to.
You pause to glance over your shoulder and find him. To offer him one last chance. “Harry?”
“…yeah?”
You take a deep breath. “Do you regret it now?”
You half expected his answer to come as quickly as the others.
But this one doesn’t.
This one seems to catch in his throat as his expression falls. “…I don’t know.”
And that tells you everything.
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You don’t hear from Harry for three days.
He doesn’t text you. You don’t text him.
He doesn’t call you. You don’t call him.
You’re not trying to be petty. You’re not even trying to punish him, you’re just…
Confused.
You and Harry don’t fight. Not once in the fifteen years that you’ve known each other.
Sometimes you’ll get into spats. Or heated arguments. But you don’t ice each other out. You don’t resort to games and the silent treatment.
If that’s even what this is.
You knew opening this door in your friendship would make it impossible to close.
And now, it’s letting in a draft.
And after everything you felt with him, after everything you realized…
Having him so far away, so distant…makes you feel empty.
Incomplete.
As if there’s a missing piece to your puzzle.
You allow yourself to wonder if he’s simply learned all that he’s needed to learn from you. If he’s ready to be a good partner for Tina, and ready to resume just a platonic, non-sexual friendship with you.
Which you’d be more than okay with.
Really.
You would.
You’d have to be.
Because you don’t want to know what happens…if you wouldn’t.
So, you shove all thoughts of Harry and his lessons away. You reject each memory of his hands, and his lips, and his body, and his cock.
And you continue on with your life. You revert back to the way it was before, when it was just you and your vibrator.
But nothing is ever that simple, and you should have anticipated that even before there was a frantic knock on your door.
Confused, you toss your throw blanket aside and stand from the couch.
And when you swing the door open, you find Harry. Standing in your hallway. Slightly out of breath and wearing a curious expression on his face.
Kind of like the day he asked to eat you out.
The rush of deja vu almost overwhelms you as you blink at him. “…uh, hi?”
“Hi.” His greeting is as rushed as his gasp for air, as if he ran all the way up the five flights of stairs. 
“What…are you doing here?” you ask hesitantly, letting your eyes trail down his body, cautiously looking for an explanation.
There’s a pause as he seems to study you back before he straightens up and takes a step forward.
“I’m finishing the list,” he exhales before seizing your face between his hands and kissing you.
You don’t have time to grasp onto the concept of his lips as he walks you backward toward the wall, kicking the door shut on his way in.
And he takes. Exactly the way he had before. He takes and he savors, and he owns. He says everything with this one kiss. Everything you know he can never say aloud.
Everything.
You don’t fight him on it. You probably should. Should probably stop him and ask him what he’s doing. Ask him what happened, what changed.
But maybe you don’t wanna know what’s changed. Maybe you’re just grateful it did.
So, you kiss him back. You kiss him, and you whisper his name, and you let your hands scratch down the back of his neck.
And you revel in the way he groans. In the way he drags his teeth down your throat to freshen up the already fading marks from the time before.
Then, his fingers trail down your arm to latch onto your wrist. And he tugs. Tugs you away from the wall he had pressed against so he can drag you toward your room.
“What are you doing?” you murmur as you scramble after him, an excited shiver traveling down your spine.
“You’re gonna sit on my face,” he declares, practically slinging you toward the bed. “Gonna sit on my fucking face and let me taste you.”
Your ass meets the mattress as he towers above. And despite how enthralled the idea has you…you pause. “Harry…I don’t know if that’s—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he interrupts, leaning down to press his palms to the bed, caging you between his arms. “I don’t wanna talk, I don’t want to overthink…I just want you to sit on my face.”
Your lashes flutter. “Harry—”
“No,” he repeats. He offers a single shake of his head. “No. You said this is about trust, right?”
“Right, but—”
“So trust me,” he whispers, dipping closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Trust me when I say it’s fine. Trust me…when I say the only thing I want…is to have you ride my tongue.”
And right now as you stare at him, and feel him, and inhale him…you have no other choice but to trust him, too.
“Okay,” you breath, already desperate to have him touch you. Hold you. Remind you why it felt so right in the first place.
“Okay?” he checks, the corner of his mouth curling up in a pleased smile.
You nod. “Okay. I trust you.”
And he’s overcome with exhilaration as he grabs onto the back of your neck to bring your mouth to his.
It’s only been two minutes—tops. But you’d missed his kisses. Missed having his lips on yours. Missed the way he completely owned you. 
Missed the way he made you his.
He guides you onto your back, laying you against the mattress comfortably while allowing him the room to crawl on top of you.
And his frantic touches follow you all the way down, his nimble fingers dancing up your shirt until they can find your bare chest.
You gasp into his bottom lip as he takes you into his palm, effortlessly and expertly caressing you until you’re arching into his touch. 
He groans when he feels you. Takes pleasure in having you. Getting to hold you the way he is now. Explore you.
His knee makes a home against your cunt, pressing into you subtly, as if to jumpstart the process. And you squirm against it, lungs aching for air as you tangle your hands in his curls.
And for a moment, you both simply enjoy. Enjoy this rather innocent connection. This innocent sensation of your bodies finding a rhythm together. This harmonious link between your body and his.
Then, he scoops his arm beneath your hips and rolls you both over.
Your knees meet the bed, one on each side of his waist as you brace yourself against his chest.
He grins lazily but he’s far too focused on the task at hand. So, he curls his fingers around your sleep shorts and begins to pull them down. 
There’s a bit of awkward shifting and rearranging that follows as you help him toss them aside.
But once they’re off, his palms wrap around the backs of your thighs, and he brings you closer.
You’ve ridden a face before. Have quite enjoyed it, in fact.
But Harry…Harry isn’t just someone. Harry is…Harry.
And riding Harry’s face is a lot different than riding his thigh.
But he doesn’t give you a moment to think about that. And you’re almost positive he knows you are.
Because he shoots you this look of warning before tugging you closer to him, forcing your knees to scuffle a bit closer until you’re exactly where he wants you.
You take hold of the headboard to brace yourself, already tingling from where his fingertips are pressing into your skin.
And you can feel him breathing against you. Soft, chaste kisses being trailed along your inner thigh as he travels his way up. 
He might be new at this, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. At least when it comes to you, and you could almost smile at his attention to detail.
“Relax for me, Bee,” he instructs, nose bumping your clit as your breath hitches. “Come on, it’s all right. Just relax and let me taste you.”
You try to do as instructed, allowing yourself to sink down a bit closer. 
But the moment he drags his tongue through your arousal, you suck in a sharp breath and straighten up.
“Bee,” he growls, hands already pulling you back down. A bit harder than he had before.
“I’m sorry,” you gasp, lids growing heavy as the lust-induced haze begins to wash over you. “M’sorry, just don’t…don’t wanna hurt you—”
“And what did I fucking say about that?” he nearly snaps. “Hurt me. Fucking suffocate me, if you have to. Sit on my goddamn face until I can’t breathe.”
“Harry,” you whisper, eyes screwing shut as he repeats his previous action. “I don’t…I can’t—”
The sharp smack to your ass makes your head drop back. It’s loud, and it’s firm, and it stings more than his previous spanking.
But it’s fucking amazing.
“I’m not gonna tell you again,” he warns. “You’re gonna ride my fucking tongue until I’ve had enough. Is that understood?”
You feel yourself clench around nothing from the dominant tone of voice. Nails already scratching down the wood of your headboard as you try to find the strength to speak.
There’s another zealous slap to your skin, his palm painting your body red with salacious intentions. “Answer me, baby girl.”
“Yes,” you whine. “Yes, I understand.”
“That’s my girl,” he hums, lips ghosting your cunt as he speaks. “You do what I say. Go where I tell you to go. Let me put you exactly where I fucking want you.”
And to prove this point, he tugs on your hips until your pussy meets his mouth.
And suddenly everything makes sense.
It’s fucking magic the way he treats you. The way he tastes you. The way he covers his tongue in your need for him. 
He sucks and he swallows, and he pulls you so far down onto him that you’re surprised you don’t disappear into him.
But it’s…
Everything.
The only concept you truly understand in this moment. Him and his mouth and this endless desire to take. To have.
And you let him. Let him have you. Let him roll you over his tongue as he laps at you like he’s an animal.
“Harry,” you breathe for a second time, legs shaking from beside his head. “Fuck…please—”
Another spank lands firmly against your outer thigh. You can’t tell if this is to please you or to punish you, but either way…you enjoy it.
You swallow another curse as you surrender to his instructions, allowing yourself to be guided even further down.
“That’s it,” he says before nipping at your clit with his teeth. “Knew you liked it. Knew you needed me to take care of you, didn’t you?”
Your whimper comes from deep in the back of your throat as you let one hand travel down to his hair.
And when you scratch at his scalp with bliss, he smiles.
“Oh, you did,” he answers for you. “Needed someone to make it better. Needed someone to do it right.”
And those stories you used to tell him about Eric come rushing back as you’re reminded of all the ways he’d never been able to get you off.
And the way Harry has done nothing but get you off since the moment you started.
 “Don’t you?” he pushes, clearly wanting to hear your confirmation, and you’re not surprised he has a praise kink. “Fucking needed me—”
“Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, always needed you—”
Another slap. “That’s right. Know you do. Know you need someone to make you feel so fucking good. Make you come the way you deserve. Make you see fucking stars—”
You cry out something resembling his name as his fingers begin to scrape down your legs. Forcing you impossibly closer. Forcing you to give him everything.
And he’s relentless. You truly cannot fathom anything besides the feel of his lips on your pussy or the way he holds you over his face or even the way he speaks to you. The low vibrations dancing right up the back of your spine.
Your mind is blank. Filled with nothing but images and feelings and ideas. Of the pleasure barreling toward you at an alarming rate. At the way he’s been working on you for only a few minutes but already you’re at the mercy of his objective. 
“Please, please, please.” The word drips from your mouth like falling rain. Over, and over, and over. You can’t do anything else but beg. Beg him to keep going, beg him to go harder, beg him to never stop.
“So fucking good,” he murmurs, tongue driving inside before curling. Beckoning your release closer. “Aren’t you, baby girl? So fucking good for me—”
You nod, lip between your teeth as you chew. 
“Make me so happy,” he says, nails clawing at the base of your spine. “Don’t you? Make Daddy so proud—”
“Shit—” Your forehead finds the headboard as you tug on his curls. It’s almost too much. Yet somehow not enough. “Harry—”
“Uh-uh,” he tuts, guiding you up as your chest just about caves in. “No. Try again.”
“Har—”
“Try again.”
Your eyes roll, half from the pleasure but mostly from the pain of his annoyance before you oblige. “Daddy…please.”
He doesn’t answer with words, instead forcing you back down to continue his ministrations. 
He knows you’re close. You know he knows. And his desire to get you there is power in itself. 
Because even after everything, even after fighting, even after years of friendship and dad jokes…he wants to take care of you.
Wants to give you exactly what you deserve.
So…he does.
The sound of his name on your tongue is dissolute and depraved. Needy and pathetic and filled with the kind of yearning you yourself don’t even understand.
But you welcome the relief with open arms. Welcome the way he holds onto you as he swallows the rush that follows.
And he fucking groans. In a similarly desperate way that nearly doubles the length of your orgasm. 
He’s never sounded so content. So satisfied and pleased. And you do feel good. Feel so good to have made him so proud. To have been the reason for this eager agreeance. 
But then…he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t stop, even after you’ve attempted to squirm up and away from his continued attempts. Even after you’ve whined, “Harry,” and scratched a little harder on his scalp.
He keeps going.
“Har,” you sigh, already too sensitive to form a cohesive thought. “Har…s’okay…I came—”
“I know,” he says simply, palms pressing into your side to keep you exactly where you are. “And you’re gonna come again.”
“Harry,” you gasp, almost as if shocked by the very idea. “Har, I…s’too—”
“What?” His tongue flattens against your cunt before dragging up toward your clit. “Overstimulation was on your list, right?”
Your lashes flutter rapidly as you rest one hand back on the headboard. “I’m…yes…yeah—"
“Then you’re gonna come for me again,” he informs you. “And again. And again, until I’ve decided you’re done.”
And you want to argue. Wanted to tell him that you’re exhausted but you can already feel the next one on its way.
Because he’s speaking to you in that familiarly aggressive way that makes your heart pound. That makes your skin erupt into goosebumps and your brain turn to mush.
God, his voice. His voice alone could do damage. Could tip you over the edge a hundred times. He could be whispering the fucking alphabet and you’d be putty in his hands.
And maybe it shouldn’t be so easy to turn you so submissive, but you’ll happily do as he asks as long as he keeps asking you in that voice.
As long as he keeps telling you that your pleasure is his. That you…are his.
Nobody else exists outside of this room. Not Eric. Not Tina. Not any future lovers or partners.
Not even any consequences.
Right now, in this room…it’s just you.
The second one doesn’t hit as hard as the first, but it still knocks you off-kilter, forcing you to shake within his hold.
But he keeps you steady. In more ways than one. He makes sure you don’t have the room or space to crawl off him, or even think about takingyour pussy away from his greedy search.
“Harry,” you mewl, pulling so hard on his curls that it has to hurt. “Please…please—”
You aren’t sure if you’re asking him to stop or let you come again, but either way, he pursues the third one. 
And this time…he adds his hand.
After repositioning you just so, he easily slips two fingers inside, meeting your g-spot almost instantly. 
You nearly go blind from how good it feels, how hard it hits you. From how happy you are to find relief in his arms.
The third is kinder to you. Shorter but much more intense. Like a burst of pure adrenaline and euphoria. 
It almost hurts when you finally begin to unwind, and his movements start to slow. He must be able to tell you don’t have too much left to offer and you appreciate the way he eases out of you with great care.
He helps shuffle you back until you can collapse onto the bed beside him. But he doesn’t let you go too far, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to help cement you into his side.
Your leg tangles between the two of his while your face buries into his neck. You’re spent. Physically and emotionally. But he allows you a moment to rest, fingers stroking your skin gently to help bring you back to him.
“You okay?” he murmurs, turning his head so his lips can meet your forehead. “S’it too much?”
“No,” you breathe, eyes falling closed as you inhale the comforting scent of his cologne. “No, it was good. A little confusing…but good.”
And you know he knows what you mean.
But still, he chooses not to respond. Chooses not to offer any sort of insight into what happened that day in his room.
Instead, his arm pulls you closer. “Well…did we cover everything? Is there anything left to check off?”
Your head rolls back so you can see him, the idea already taking root in your mind. “I can think of one more thing…if you’re up for it.”
His eyebrow raises.
You smile. “Pegging.”
He leans back, eyes growing wide. “Really?”
“Yeah. But…only if you were actually serious about that,” you correct as you begin to sit up. “Most guys are a little hesitant about it, and I guess I get why. So…if you don’t think that’s something you’d really be—”
“I’d be honored if you’d fuck me.”
You blink. “Really?”
“Really.” His hand comes up to brush a fallen hair behind your ear, touch lingering on your cheek as he studies you. “I know you’d do it right.”
You grin. “I’m flattered you have so much confidence in me.”
“I do,” he agrees softly, thumb sweeping across your jaw. “Of course I do. You should know that.”
But you don’t know that. Not after what he said last time.
And the reminder of your previous argument makes you hesitate. “You need to really think about what you’re agreeing to, Har. Because if you don’t like it, and you want to stop…I need to know that you’ll tell me. I need to know that you trust me enough to tell me what you need.”
His brows pull together, lips quickly falling into a frown as his hand drops to his chest. “You know I trust you—”
“Do I?”
His tongue comes out to run over his bottom lip. “I promise. I trust you. I want to do this. I want to try it. With you.”
“Har—”
“If I don’t like it, I’ll say something. I promise,” he continues. “But I won’t know if I like it or not until I try. And you should always try everything at least once, right?”
You huff. “Yeah, but—”
“Come on…don’t you wanna fuck me?” he teases, gingerly nudging you with his elbow. “I’ll be such a good boy, I swear.”
And you groan at the playful way he speaks, already feeling much better about the proposition. “God. See? This is why I think you’re annoying.”
“You love me,” he declares as you stand from the bed.
And for some reason, your stomach tightens. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You gonna sit there all day or are you gonna strip?”
Instantly, he perks up, watching you closely as you rummage through your nightstand. “What, I have to take my clothes off by myself? You’re not gonna help me?”
“Nope.” You glance over and nod your chin at him. “Go on. Be a good boy.”
This time, he rolls his eyes as he laughs and begins to undo his pants.
As he begins to undress, you begin to gather what you’ll need. You locate the bottle of lube and the dildo, heart in your throat as you allow yourself to imagine what’s about to happen.
You don’t know if he’ll truly like it or not. You want him to. Want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. As much pleasure as he deserves. 
But…guys are weird about this. And this kind of intimacy goes far behind missionary.
You know what you’re doing. This isn’t your first time exploring the pleasures of a strap-on with a guy. You know you’ll be able to take care of him for as long as he lets you. 
You just…don’t want it to change anything else. You don’t want him to retreat into himself the way he did last time.
You don’t want to lose him.
You can’t.
Once you’re ready, you return to the bed just as he’s peeling his shirt off his chest and tossing it toward the floor.
And you let yourself admire him. Let yourself drink in each tattoo, each scar, each dip of his muscles. 
He is beautiful.
You notice the way he smiles at your admiration before looking down at the items in your lap. “Where, uh…where do you want me?”
You glance over the mattress. “Hands and knees should be good. Just…anywhere you feel comfortable.”
He nods once, swallowing thickly as he steps forward and begins to crawl back onto the bed.
The room is eerily quiet as you both move into position. You hadn’t expected things to feel so…heavy. But you suppose they are. Suppose neither one of you anticipated your adventure leading you here.
But…you don’t exactly mind.
He stills when he’s gotten into position, head dropping as he stares at your duvet and waits for your next instruction.
You clear your throat and reach out to smooth your palm down his spine. He jolts when he feels you but relaxes quickly, exhaling an anxious sigh.
“You okay?” you call softly, continuing the gentle caress to loosen him up. 
He nods again. “Yeah. Promise. Just…nervous? I guess?”
“I know,” you whisper, settling onto your knees as you dip down to press a kiss to his bare hip. “You still trust me?”
And you can feel the way his entire body goes rigid from your mouth on his skin, his chin meeting his chest. “Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Fucking promise, Bee. Just…”
“Just what?” Your fingers dance toward his ass, ghosting over the curve as you move your kisses toward the middle. “Tell me.”
You’re happy to put him under the same duress he put you earlier, and the way his fists curl around the blanket beneath him makes you smile.
“Bee,” he attempts to warn, but you aren’t having it.
You simply trail your lips down the back of his thigh, and hum, “Come on, Daddy…wanna take care of you. But I can’t until you tell me what you want.”
You can see just how badly he wants to comply, his cock swollen and red. You know that’s mostly thanks to him eating you out and you feel your cheeks warm at the knowledge that it did that to him.
That you did that to him.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” you coo, reaching around to slide your palm down the tip as he hisses and lurches forward. “Poor Daddy…bet it’d feel so good to come, wouldn’t it?”
“Bee…please,” he respires. “Please, just…god, please touch me. M’gonna lose my fucking mind.”
You smile again as you straighten back up and reach for the lube. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Yes.”
Your head shakes. “Mhm. Okay…I’m gonna start with a finger. But I need you to really be—”
“I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” you repeat, equally as soft before you squeeze the liquid into your hand. “Take a deep breath for me.”
He does, the muscles in his arms tensing as the tip of the bottle meets his ass. And when he feels the gel begin to drip down, he reels.
“That’s just the lube, Har,” you tell him, biting back a laugh.
“I know, but it’s cold,” he grumbles as you finish and toss the item aside. 
You give him another moment to unwind before you bring your pointer finger closer…and gingerly slide inside.
You’re more than careful, listening closely for his reaction. It sounds like…relief, but you can’t be sure.
“Har?” you call again, other hand smoothing along his hip to give it a squeeze. 
“M’fine,” he mumbles, once again fisting your duvet. “Promise. Go.”
“Are you—”
“Go,” he stresses before sucking in a quiet breath. “Please, baby. Go. Keep going.”
So, you do. You ease in a bit further until you’re about halfway in, pausing to let him adjust.
He seems to be doing pretty well, despite the way his stomach quivers and his cock twitches. 
And after pumping him once or twice with great care, you push in to the knuckle.
He likes this, a particular groan emitting from his throat as he subtly shifts back into your hand. “Shit, Bee.”
“How’s it feel?”
He takes a moment to think. To find the right words. “Good. Full…I guess.”
“Yeah, and that’s only my finger.”
You hear him make a noise that resembles a laugh before he groans again. “God…please don’t stop. Please…I promise, I’m fine. I just…I…”
“Need more, don’t you?” you answer for him, working the lube in and out as he nods quickly. 
“Yes. Yes…more.”
And who are you to say no?
You pump him a few more times before bringing a second finger into play. Again, you go slow. Making sure to gauge each sound and movement he makes so as to not hurt him. Or catch him off guard. 
But he’s growing desperate. Mindlessly following your thrusts as he grows accustomed to the feeling. As he becomes familiar with the pleasure it brings him.
His jaw drops, hand coming up to his cock to stroke it lazily, needing some sort of friction.
But you reach around and slap it away, tsking as you warn, “Not yet. Not until I’m ready—”
“Bee,” he whines, and the desperate waver in his voice almost guts you.
“Shh. Just one more minute, okay?”
“Please…"
“I know. M’almost ready. Promise.”
He does his best to comply, nodding weakly as he lets his hand drop back down to the bed.
And you feel bad for him, you do. But seeing him so unhinged just about ruins you, and you can feel the way your cunt aches. The way it practically yearns for him, dripping all down your thighs as you continue to work your fingers into him.
And once you’re sure he’s ready…you reach for the dildo.
You’re more than generous with the lube, making sure to keep the experience pleasurable and easy.
And the dildo itself isn’t all that intimidating. Not nearly as big as he is. Average, at best. Perfect for a beginner.
The lack of stimulation makes him restless, and your heart clenches for him as you secure the strap-on around your hips and finally bring the tip back to his glistening hole.
The faint brush of it makes him whimper, and the sound of this confident man coming undone by your hand is what changes everything.
Everything.
It’s music. A goddamn symphony, and you chase the sound by slowly easing the dildo in.
An easy enough task, exactly like you’d hoped.
But he loses it.
The moan is deep and vulgar, echoing off the walls of your bedroom as you squeeze your legs together and press your fingers further into his hip.
“Good,” you hum, dipping down to kiss the base of his spine. “So good, Har. Promise. You okay?”
“Fucking shit,” is his reply. “Shit, shit, shit.”
You smile. “Give me your hand.”
He sluggishly reaches back for you, fingers intertwining with yours when you find him. And it makes your stomach flip but it’s not what you had in mind.
You bring your hands over to his cock, guiding him along the swollen shaft as he instantly ruts into your palm.
“Bee,” he gasps, squeezing both your knuckles and his tip. “Please—”
“I know,” you say again, continuing to work the dildo into him. Slowly at first before you find a steadier rhythm. “I know, doing so good—”
“Shit—”
“That’s it. Just like that. Like when I play with you, don’t you?”
He nods as you both begin to pump him, now matching the pace you've set with your thrusts and the dildo. "Yes...yes. Please don't stop—"
"Won't. Promise," you whisper, kissing down his hip. 
His squirming increases, the one arm holding him up now shaking as he does his best to remain upright. 
But it feels too good. You can see the pleasure written all over the side of his face, and it does fucking wonders for you.
You've never felt more proud to be responsible for his pleasure. To be responsible for making him fall apart the way he is. For showing him exactly what he deserves.
And he takes it. Takes it so fucking well, clutching onto you as you continue to work him closer. 
And he feels so good. So good in your hand. So heavy, and needy, and ready for the release you've promised him.
You want to give him that release more than anything. Want to show him how good it can be. Want to show him the fucking stars.
He yells when he finds it. Your name and about a string of curses, all falling from his tongue one after the other.
He covers your hand, and your bed, and his stomach. And when he collapses, he takes you with him, pulling you down until your chest meets his back.
You imagine this can't be all that comfortable for him, especially with the dildo now halfway out, but he doesn't complain.
He continues to hold onto your wrist as he works to catch his breath.
And you don't fight it.
A minute or two passes before you gently ease the object out, unclip it from your body, and toss it aside.
He hisses at the loss of contact before settling once more, fingers still cemented to your hand.
You know you’ll need to clean up, but he doesn’t seem to have any future plans to do so.
It makes you smile, your cheek pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. His skin hot and slightly sweaty. 
For some reason…it feels good.
“Bee?” he calls quietly, as if not to disrupt the tender moment.
You hum.
“Thank you.”
You let your eyes flutter shut. “Hey, what are friends for?”
A beat.
He tenses. “Yeah…”
Then, the silence returns.
But this time, it’s different.
This time…it’s heavy.
And when he lets go of your hand, you realize it’s not just in your head. 
Things happen quickly. You barely get the chance to roll off of him before he’s sitting up and climbing off the bed. You don’t even have time to ask what changed as he begins reaching for his clothes to re-dress, your heart instantly dropping to your stomach.
“Har…?” you stammer as you awkwardly reach for your underwear. And this rush of deja vu is much more unpleasant than the last. “What…what’s—”
“I gotta go,” he mumbles under his breath, his back to you as he slips his hoodie on. “I forgot. I’ve got…something I’ve gotta do.”
“Oh…” Your chest deflates as you watch him step into his shoes. “What…um, what do you have to do?”
Once he straightens back up, he stills, and you wish you could see his face. “S’not important.”
With that, he heads for your living room, leaving you behind.
And you watch him go, a dumb founded look on your face as he makes his way for the front door.
A hundred and one things instantly run through your mind, from explanations to unpleasant realizations.
But the moment you watch him disappear into the hallway without so much as a glance back, you realize none of it fucking matters.
Just him.
You chase after him, scrambling toward the lobby in hot pursuit as he pushes through the double doors and disappears into the parking lot.
And you’re right behind, slipping out as well as he strides away from you, when you’re suddenly forced to a screeching halt the moment you’re met with a downpour of rain.
The sky is dark, the only smattering of light coming from the few street lamps placed along the sidewalk.
You hadn’t realized it was so late, or so rainy, but you don’t let it stop you.
Instead, you plant your feet onto the steps of the building, and shout, “Watermelon!”
It echoes across the parking lot until you see him freeze, his drenched back still to you.
Then…he turns.
Only about halfway, the hood on his head allowing just enough light to catch the side of his face.
But it’s enough.
“Watermelon,” you repeat as you take a step closer, water trickling down your hair, your body, your clothes. But you don’t care. “I call watermelon.”
He frowns. “The hell are you doing? Go back inside—”
“No.” Your teeth grit, fingers squeezing into fists by your side as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky. “No. I want you to talk to me.”
His hands disappear into his pockets as he tosses a glare your way. “I told you, I don’t wanna talk—”
“Tough shit.” You take another step. “’Cause I do. And you owe me that.”
The frown deepens. “Bee…don’t.”
 “No, you don’t.” Another step. “After everything we’ve been through…you really think you can’t talk to me? You really think I’m not trustworthy enough to hear what’s going on?”
He scoffs and glances away. “God, you never fucking listen. I told you, it’s not—”
“No, you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me anything,” you remind him, volume raising ever-so-slightly as you continue closer. “Something is wrong, Harry. I know you. And I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me—”
“I don’t want you to fix it,” he seethes. “I want you to drop it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t do that. We work it out.”
“We can’t work this out.”
You hesitate as the first clue slips free. “So there is something to work out?”
He sighs, eyes falling shut. “Bee…please go back inside—”
“No.” Yet another step. “No. What is it? What happened? What did I do—”
“Nothing,” he nearly growls, whirling around to face you as if to really nail in his point. “I fucking told you. Nothing—”
“Then what?”
“Bee—”
“What? Is this about Tina—"
“For fuck’s sake—”
“Seriously, did she say something—"
“Bee—”
“Is she mad about this—”
“Can you just—”
“What? Do you feel guilty—”
“No, I just—”
“If you wanted to stop, all you had to do was say something—”
“I didn’t—that’s not—”
“Then what, Har? What happened? Why won’t you fucking—”
“I can’t do this.”
You stop.
He stops.
But nothing else stops. Not the rain. Not the lightning. Not the thunder. Not the racing in your chest as your heart beats against your ribcage like a goddamn drum.
I can’t do this.
You don’t think you heard him right. “…what?”
He scrapes his teeth together. “I can’t…I don’t wanna be friends with you. I don’t wanna be just friends with you, I don’t…fuck.”
He looks down at the wet cement as your lashes flutter and you work overtime to figure out what he’s saying.
“I—for fuck’s sake,” he hisses, almost more to himself before his eyes snap back to yours. “Look, I know that all of this was just…you helping me out. Okay? I know that. I know it meant nothing.”
A crack of lightning strikes the sky and somehow, it’s still not as intimidating as what he’s about to stay.
“But then…it did mean something,” he continues, a bit softer. “It meant everything.”
You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what he wants you to say.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he grumbles, frowning once more. “I know, okay? I know. And that’s not…we agreed that it would just be…this. Just this. Nothing else. ’Cause we don’t do anything else. We don’t do…whatever, okay? I know.”
He looks back out into the dark city, leaving you to stare blankly at the side of his face. 
“But it’s you,” he says, hands nestling further into the hoodie. “It’s you, and it’s always been you. Fucking always, Bee. Ever since we were kids. And I didn’t…I didn’t know why. Didn’t even know what it was, but it’s never felt like this with anyone else. Only you.”
Only you.
“And I don’t wanna…fuck, I don’t wanna lose you,” he just about sighs. “I can’t fucking lose you, Bee. But it just…I don’t think I can do this and not fall in love with you.”
You suck in sharp breath, and he looks back.
“Because I will,” he whispers, despite the rain. But you hear it, clear as day. “I will fall in love with you, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t have me.”
He stops now. Allowing the words to sink in. Allowing the truth to make a home in your mind.
And you work to understand. Work to find a response…but the only thing you manage is:
“What about Tina?”
After all, this started with her. It’s only fair that she play her part now.
His expression twists. You don’t know which way. “I like Tina. She’s nice. And she’d probably be really good for me.”
A pause.
“But she’s not you,” he finishes, and for some reason…you’re filled with relief. “It doesn’t feel like this with her. I don’t think it ever will.”
“You don’t mean that,” you blurt out, head shaking quickly. “No, it was just the sex. It’s throwing you off, it...it screws everything up and makes people think they feel one way…when they don’t.”
“Bee…” he begins, almost as if tired, but you barrel on.
“No, you said it yourself. Remember? Endorphins and shit?” You brush some wet hair from your face. “You just…it’s not me. It’s just the sex.”
“No.” He sounds so sure. So confident in his decision. “No, it’s not. It’s you. Always you, Bee—”
“Har—”
“You don’t have to like it. But that’s how it is—”
“Harry…you just…you don’t—”
“But I do.”
“Harry.” You want to stomp your foot. “You can’t…you don’t mean it. You’re confused.”
His eyes soften. “I’m not. I mean…I am, but not about why. Not about this—not about you.”
A pause settles between you as more thunder echoes across the dark sky.
And you look at him. Really look at him. Look for the truth, or the deception, or for anything that will help you make sense of all this.
“You said watermelon,” you remind him, blinking the droplets of rain from your eyes. “Why did you say watermelon?”
Another sigh as he glances back down at his sneakers. “’Cause…I knew. I knew I was starting to…need you. More than I should. And it fucking…it fucking scared me. It scared me how fucking…real it felt.”
Truthfully, you’re a little surprised that the man who has never once before admitted defeat would now confess his fear to you.
 But it makes your head spin.
“And I just…it was a lot,” he continues. “Seeing you. Seeing what I’d done. I mean…the marks. On your neck. I did that. I’ve never done that to someone before. But then I did. And I liked it. I liked getting to be that way with you, and it fucking terrified me. Because what if I hurt you? Actually hurt you somewhere down the line? I’d never fucking forgive myself.”
Your lips press into a quivering line. “…why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because it didn’t matter,” he huffs, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters because you don’t feel that way, and we’re finished with the list anyhow.”
You instantly follow after him, bridging the gap he made. “Don’t. It always matters with us, Har. Always. I mean…do you really think I haven’t wondered the same thing? Do you think it’s been fucking easy to do this with you and then just go back to watching Schitt’s Creek? It’s killed me. Fucking ruined me from the inside out to watch you walk away from me.”
His teeth grit once again, as if steeling himself from the truth.
“You mean everything to me, you goddamn twat,” you just about shout. “Sex or no sex, it doesn’t change that. I agreed to do this with you because I knew it was us. I knew we would be okay. Because we had to be okay. I can’t lose you either, Har. So stop trying to make me—”
“Then, what do you want me to do, huh?” he bellows. “Just wait around for you to believe me?”
“I…I do believe you, I just…I—”
“You just don’t feel the same way—”
“No, I didn’t say that—”
“Then what—”
“I…I—”
“What? I have to tell you, but you don’t have to tell me—”
“That’s not…that’s—”
“What do you want, Bee? What do you want me to do, what do you expect me to—”
“I love you.”
He stops.
Suddenly, and all at once, his eyes going wide.
But you don’t stop. “I love you,” you repeat loudly. “And I’m fucking terrified, too. Because I don’t want it to be just about sex. I don’t want it to be just the endorphins and shit. I want it to be real. I want us to be real.”
The silence seems to span an eternity as the rain continues to beat down around you.
Then…he surges forward.
He grabs hold of your wet cheeks with his drenched hands and yanks you closer.
And he kisses you.
He kisses you until you’re more him than you. He kisses you until you no longer have the strength to stand or the power to fight him.
He kisses you until it makes sense.
After a moment, he pauses to allow you a minute to breathe. But he doesn’t go very far. He presses his forehead to yours and he keeps you.
And it’s fucking…everything.
“What if we’re not?” he whispers. “What if we’re not real? What if we aren’t…us?”
You shake your head. "We'll always be us."
He exhales a gentle laugh before brushing his thumbs across your skin. "What if it changes everything?"
You wish you could assure him that it won't. Or even that it will, but in the best way.
But you can’t.
So, instead, you squeeze your fingers around his wrists and smile. 
“There’s only one way to find out.”
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Thank you so much to everyone for reading, following along, and offering me so much support on this series 😭 I will never be able to thank you enough for all the kind comments and wonderful feedback, but please know I appreciate you all endlessly 🥹💞💞💞💞
Also, I suppose I did kind of lie. This will probably be the last part of the “main” series but I’ve actually got a few more ideas for extra blurbs and parts about other kinks and situations they might get into. So, if you’d like to follow along, I would be so honored to have you back!
And if you’d rather leave their story here, that is absolutely okay, too! Thank you so much for being here!
Now…I’m gonna go cry HAHAHA ♥️
Next Part:
~ Find Me* (A Teach Me Extra)
Previous Part:
~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)
~ Full Teach Me Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Tags: (I have no idea if you all wanted to be tagged in each additional part, and if not, please let me know and I am so sorry for dragging you here! And if you did...then welcome back!!)
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thestoryofusstan · 27 days
Text
Uptown Girl
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pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader
summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious
warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual
-
harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.
you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.
so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.
you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.
it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.
by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.
“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.
you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.
“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”
your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.
great.
“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.
“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.
that makes you feel a bit better.
“y/n, a word in my office please.”
you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office
the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.
“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”
“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“
“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”
you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”
“it better be.”
she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.
you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.
after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.
you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.
mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.
“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.
no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.
the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.
“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.
“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”
“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.
“what was that?”
your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.
“oh. uh.. i was just—“
“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”
“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”
“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.
“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”
you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”
“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”
“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”
he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.
“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“
“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”
at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.
“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”
“that’s the goal,” he nods.
“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”
diane looks ready to kill you.
mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”
your face grows hot.
“she’s a student,” diane sighs.
“a student?” he asks.
“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”
he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.
"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"
your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."
he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."
your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"
"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."
"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."
"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?
"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.
"you may," he eyes her skeptically.
"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"
he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"
you nod.
"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"
you nod again.
he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"
"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."
"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."
-
for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.
after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.
at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.
-
the text came three days later.
From: (Maybe): Harry
Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.
To: Harry Styles
Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?
From: Harry Styles
I'll let you decide.
To: Harry Styles
There is this one coffee shop named Maman?
Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY
From: Harry Styles
Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.
To: Harry Styles
You too!
-
you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.
you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.
you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.
harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.
-
really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.
he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.
so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.
sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.
"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.
"good morning. did you order?"
"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."
you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"
you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.
"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"
"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."
you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."
"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."
you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."
"oh, is it now?"
"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.
"lemme have a taste."
you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"
"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.
“that you are.”
“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”
he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.
“so, how long have you been designing?”
“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”
“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”
you nod. he grins.
“may i see the sketches?”
you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.
he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.
“..so?” you ask.
“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.
you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”
you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.
he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.
“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”
his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”
you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”
“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”
“thank you,” you blush.
“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”
“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”
he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”
“i don’t think i’m that good—“
“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”
and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.
-
a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭
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distantsonata · 9 months
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