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#harry styles request
harrysonlylover · 16 hours
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Discipline
Summary: Agent Harry cherishes discipline, but he doesn’t like the fact that Y/n has been lacking it.
Trope: Agent Harry
WC: 6.8k
Warnings: MEAN Harry, shouting at Y/n, Angst, mention of blood tests and deficiencies, NO SMUT.
Agent Harry Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Choosing to become an agent would either be the worst decision in your life or the best. In Harry’s case, it was the latter.
He was born a leader—at least according to his mother. He had the household controlled from a young age, something that was perceived as adorable by adults.
But behind all his antics and “boss orders”, was a man eager to assert dominance starting from his early years.
His behavior was a replica of a leader or a man in power. His mother didn’t oppose his personality, perhaps a part of her thought it was just a phase, while the other was okay with it.
Little did she know that this stubborn young man would grow up to become one of London’s best secret agents.
As some would say—he didn’t choose the path, the path chose him. A fresh High School graduate eager to take a bite from what the world was offering him with little to no guidance.
Instead, he poured all of his focus on training like a man ready to enroll in the military—something that his mom disapproved of.
How could she allow her son, her boy to sign himself up like that?
Underneath his rough exterior and judgmental persona, his mother’s beliefs were dear to him. To this day, no one has deemed himself as important as her, and perhaps no one ever will.
So, after her sudden death when he was merely twenty—he allowed himself to get lost in grief, to go against the orders he created, and betray his strictness. His body dragged him around from one place to another, asking for fights, a punch here and there to transfer his emotional maim to a physical one.
The last time he would do that was also his first chance at a new beginning. Drunk and out of his mind at a local bar, the whiskey still fresh on his tongue with rage bubbling in his core.
Just like every previous time, he ensued a fight for no reason. But this time, it was different because he had an admirer and more of a stalker.
Ezra Nakrosa, the director of the London Intelligence Agency. A man whose reputation preceded him and Harry’s mentor for the upcoming years.
He wasn’t actively pursuing him, but he kept his eyes on him after he managed to take down three men with alcohol in his system.
He watched him drink one glass after the other and scoffed to himself when he caused a fight. The last thing he expected was for Harry to outpower them all.
Since then, he watched him from afar, studied his file, and was even more interested upon finding out that he had no family.
The agency always preferred recruiting agents with little to no loved ones, for many obvious reasons and Ezra felt like he hit the jackpot.
That night, he watched Harry intently observing his moves and his body language, before approaching him after the bar owner kicked him out.
Again—he didn’t choose this path, it chose him.
Ezra didn’t even have the chance to speak because Harry was quick to confess that ‘he wasn’t dumb to not notice men stalking him’.
His agents were the best, so how did a man from a small town detect undercover agents?
He knew in that moment that he would work hard to recruit Harry, and ironically he didn’t have to ask twice.
From that day onwards, Harry climbed the ladder to the top with the help of his mentor. He found a purpose to live again, somewhere to cage his rage, and use his strategic thinking skills paired with his physical strength.
While most agents took time to adapt to the new environment, and around two years to be qualified as a field agent—Harry got his first mission in one year.
Not because Ezra secretly favored him compared to others, but because he managed to prove himself worthy, making the board demand his transfer to the field.
He was aware of the progress he made and with every milestone, his ego inflated a bit (and his biceps too).
He turned thirty-one recently, marking eleven years of being a skilled agent. Ezra’s retirement is approaching by the second and everyone is whispering rumors about Harry becoming the next chief director.
It’s a decision that hasn’t been discussed yet, but Ezra is aware that Harry will approve instantly because no one can do it like him. Besides, the agency is his entire life.
He has no loved ones and he dedicated years and hard work to the agency. He knows nothing else.
What could make Harry Styles so busy other than his position as a secret agent?
The agency is preparing for a major attack on a drug cartel, and Harry has been training everyone ruthlessly. The plan he devised was strategic and well-planned from A to Z. It can’t go wrong.
But for today, he allowed them some rest after some bargaining with the other trainer. So instead, he directed his focus towards other agents.
According to him, time can’t be wasted.
The room was filled with agents in every corner. Most of them were beginners while the others trained for their upcoming missions that weren’t as important as the drug cartel attack.
The smell of sweat and tiredness reeked from their exhausted but energetic bodies. Harry focused on strengthening their stamina because a weak one won’t benefit them in the field.
“Faster! A child can do better than you.” His voice echoed in the tight space as he stood in front of the lined agents on the ground.
Even his position whether he was sitting or standing declared his authority and sense of power. His arms were folded against his chest, showcasing his pumped biceps and his facial expression did not harbor any warm smile or softness. No one dared to look him in the eyes anyway.
“With a stamina like that, you’d be dead already!” His loud shouting wasn’t helping the poor beginner agents who cursed their luck that landed Harry as their trainer for the day.
Their current exercise was pushups. A basic one but effective in Harry’s opinion, but their exhaustion makes sense when he wants them to do 200 consecutive pushups without resting, and with sudden planks in between that don’t stop until he says so.
Harry may be a bit biased, but he fully believes that the other trainer (whom he doesn’t like) is being too soft with the newcomers. Something that shouldn’t happen.
He glanced at their worn-out faces and rolled his eyes before dismissing them.
“I’ll be discussing your weaknesses with Agent Ian. Go eat and rest but know that you shouldn’t be called agents for this shitshow.” He spat his criticism mercilessly uncaring for their feelings.
He watched them stumble out of the room, some of them limping as he remained in his place with the same posture of a leader.
Once everyone was out, his gaze drifted to the punching bag in the corner. He felt like it was calling for him despite the four-hour workout he did in the morning.
His thirst for combat or any type of martial arts could not be tamed. But upon gazing a bit too much at the punching bag, he remembered something he was supposed to do.
His legs immediately take action before his brain as he flees out of the room heading towards a private floor that is restricted for regular agents.
Only Harry, Ezra, high-ranking agents, and members of the board can access this floor. But for an unknown reason, Harry found himself giving Y/n access to his private gym.
There are many layers to things that shouldn’t happen but it seemed as if Harry didn’t care or was perhaps unaware of his actions.
Agents like Y/n shouldn’t be on this floor, but they also can’t be trained privately.
The first restriction is more important, but the second is rather for caution—to maintain a professional relationship between regular agents and higher rank ones.
All agents were trained in groups and if they needed to work on certain issues, their trainer would give them advice but not train them individually.
Harry doesn’t always train Y/n’s group but as of late, he noticed her lack of discipline and physical stamina when it comes to combat.
He knew that she wasn’t that weak which meant that she had been slacking off with training and that pissed him off.
So he ordered her to wait for him in room 309 at exactly two in the afternoon. His boots left an echo as he walked through the corridor with a confident stride. Yet, something kept poking at his brain allowing anxiety to settle in his stomach. He wasn’t entirely comfortable.
He pushed the door to the gym open, reaching his hand for the light switch. It was somewhat dim, obscuring Y/n from his view. She sat on the ground in a corner with her head tilted upwards. In the few seconds between moving her head and meeting his sharp eyes, he got to catch a glimpse of her in a calm state, almost unobserved. Even then, she looked obscenely beautiful.
“You’re late.” She gestured to the clock on the wall in a sarcastic tone that indicated his five-minute delay.
“No. You’re early.” He tried to hide his smirk before failing upon seeing the frown on her face.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and supported her body using her hands to get up—something that caught Harry’s eye.
“You’re an agent. You shouldn’t act like a 70-year-old woman at a retirement home.” His tone could cut a vein open, but at this point, she kind of got familiar with it.
She avoided responding or looking him in the eye because one answer would drag the other and he would end up questioning her on her performance—and frankly, she doesn’t have a proper response for that.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t take it any further and instructs her to warm up for fifteen minutes in a corner.
She does so with exhaustion traveling through her veins. The only thing that helps her through it is the sight of his athletic body.
His shirt is still on but it perfectly outlines his biceps that he wraps around her body to manhandle her during sex—
She quickly shakes her head to rid herself of the sinful thoughts she’s having. But again—would it be so bad to crave something that happens every other day?
Their steamy encounters keep increasing behind closed doors, and he puts on his boss’s facade once they’re out. She’s not sure if she likes that or not, but either way, she doesn’t have a say in it.
Their relationship is strictly physical.
Even if her lips begged her to find his at random moments throughout the day, even if their naked bodies molded after sex, and even if she was awake when he kissed her temple.
“Okay, that’s it.” The expression on his face held ambiguous cues, but he refrained from saying anything.
She caught her breath as shame creeped up her face planting a rosy color on her cheeks. She walked over to him with her head hung low, and nails digging into her palm.
“I need you to do some boxing because your game is getting weak.” He sighed as disappointment reeked from his words, causing more redness to settle on her face.
He helped her wear the boxing gloves as he intently glanced at her worried expression.
The first ten minutes were okay. Some form of another warm-up in Harry’s opinion. He has seen her train many times before and by now she would have the bag swinging left and right.
It made him think back to her friendly match with another agent and how she got a hit to the stomach—if he hadn’t stopped it, other areas would have been affected as well.
Not to mention her stamina in recent training—Harry simply could not let her lose her strength out of everyone else.
“Focus harder.” His posture was a warning—an indication of his bubbling anger. His arms were crossed, giving more room for his biceps to rightfully appear.
His legs were parted as he stood motionless, simply burning Y/n’s shame with his piercing gaze. She could feel it. How he had something going on in his mind, aching to roll off his lips.
His jaw ticked while his eyes followed the movement of her hands in sync with the boxing bag. It was a disaster.
“You know who gives this fucking performance? A beginner.” His tone began to increase gradually.
She swallowed down her throat, trying to ignore his intimidating posture and body that could be warm at times and cold at others.
It wasn’t odd for him to be harsh and strict during training—except that he never spoke to her like this. Not even when she was snarky and replied at things that had nothing to do with her.
Superior agents were not allowed to train any lower-ranking agent privately, and she wasn’t an idiot to dismiss that rule. But why was he acting this way?
She punched harder gathering all the strength left in her muscles, for the bag to only move a bit farther. She almost lost her footing but kept going for him. She never wanted to disappoint him.
“A fucking shitshow.” He mumbled quietly under his breath—but she heard it, and it went straight through her heart like an arrow.
“For the love of god, you’re a skilled agent so act like one!” His shouting echoed through the room making her stop and glance at him.
He was visibly furious with a vein bulging from his neck. His hand was trembling and his breaths were laboured. She hasn’t seen him in such a state before, and she regrets that she just did.
No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his anger but especially not her.
Besides, underneath all the tough facade that she puts on and her bold replies, she’s very sensitive and completely vulnerable when it comes to him.
Getting shouted at and taking orders from superiors was just another day for agents, but Harry? She was fucking falling for him.
She sighed, gathering her pride before continuing to punch the bag, ignoring the signs her body was giving her to stop.
He observed her for a minute or two, with his eyes darting between her hands and the sway of the bag. He slid down to her legs, and how they were positioned and stationed.
He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and shook his head in frustration. Did everything she learn evaporate in thin air?
“If you were in the field right now, you’d be fucking dead.” He began walking around her, throwing one sharp comment after the other.
“Are your legs paralyzed? Are you supposed to stand like that when fighting?! His shouting kept getting louder, pushing at her tear duct to open.
He suddenly punched the bag with his bare hand causing it to swing way farther, almost hitting the mirror facing them.
“Is it that hard, Y/n?” He gestured to the swinging bag.
“Where is your strength!” He was fucking fuming.
What would he do if she went on a mission with such weakness? What would happen to her if he wasn’t there?
He was too occupied with his fears to notice her frantically taking the gloves off with tears streaming down her extremely rosy cheeks.
“Y/n…” He tried to speak but her sobbing was louder than his words.
It was just another training. He has been way harsher before but this was his first time seeing her cry because of him. It was more painful than a bullet.
“J-just stop!” Her words were barely coherent with how hard she was crying. He stood in front of her unable to do or say anything.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was never supposed to cry because of him and he shouldn’t have raised his voice this way.
The boxing gloves hit the ground as she hiccuped from sobbing. She picked up her bag from the ground and turned around to face him with red eyes and a broken expression.
“Leave me alone.” The loud thud of the door closing made him flinch. He still hasn’t moved an inch trying to grasp what he had done.
Being mean and strict was all he ever knew. He never toned it down for anyone and it didn’t reflect how he felt towards them. When it came to Y/n, it was more out of protection and fear of something happening to her. He wanted her to defend herself properly and be a skilled agent. He didn’t understand why she was slacking with training like that, missing some sessions, or letting other agents beat her.
She was an amazing agent and managed to reach the top ranks in a short period, just like him.
He lost himself while training her, but he shouldn’t have assumed that she could take all of that as a motivation. There’s no such thing as being gentle in the agency, and Y/n is one tough woman. Still, he didn’t speak to her like that before. If anything, she was the only agent he praised in his ten years of service.
Did that have to do with their secret meet-ups?
Whatever the reason, he fucked up. If someone made her cry, he wouldn’t let them see the light of the day again, and no he doesn’t know why he feels the need to protect her from everything or why he isn’t running after her this instant.
He’s a pretty shit communicator—that’s the only thing he knows.
“Harry.” Ezra snapped him out of his thoughts. He was standing in the doorway with a worried expression.
“In my office. Now.” ——————————————————Harry was all too familiar with this office. He has been here a million times for the good and bad. The leather sofa he’s resting on is somewhat his signature sofa, no one else uses it but him.
His legs are spread and his left knee is bouncing as his fingers tap repeatedly on the edge of the sofa. His expression is serious as always and holds no room for bargaining. If you get close enough, you’d hear his blood boiling in his veins and the echo of Y/n’s cries repeating in his head.
“Harry.” Ezra cleared his throat, letting out an exhale before clasping his hands together.
He didn’t need to wait for Harry to turn around and acknowledge him, he had his body language memorized by heart. He instantly caught on and noticed his agitation and stress—something that he doesn’t exhibit regularly.
“I will not question you as to why an agent like Y/n had access to this restricted floor.” Ezra trusted her but if it were a different agent, he could not let it slide easily.
“What I will ask is—why did she run from here crying?” He wasn’t born yesterday. Harry’s bias toward her and his extra attention was easy to catch, especially when he had known him for a long period.
His question was met with silence and the tightening of Harry’s jaw. He kept observing him shamelessly wondering when was the last time he showed such distress over another human being.
“At least tell me why you were training her privately. You have never done that nor should you, but what’s so simple—“
“She’s getting weaker!” Harry slammed his hand on the mahogany desk, catching Ezra off guard and spilling some of his coffee.
“Low stamina and endurance, weak punches, wrong posture, and allowing others to win in matches.” His nostrils flared while his hand trembled from the pent-up anger. The tick of his jaw was unsettling and his brows furrowed with great agitation.
Ezra remained calm partly because he was familiar with Harry’s outbursts, but also because he was shocked by his response.
It would be hard to recall a decade of knowing someone, but if he’s not mistaken, Ezra has never witnessed Harry giving two fucks about someone other than his late mother, let alone an agent.
But damn it if it didn’t make sense.
“So what? Many agents slack sometimes.”
“Well, she’s not any agent. She’s smart, strong, and a skilled agent. Have you thought about what would happen to her in the field?!” His body language was less tense, but his defense grew stronger giving Ezra the final piece of the puzzle.
As the chief director of the agency, he’s slightly disappointed by Harry’s lack of professionalism, but as his mentor and nonbiological father figure, he’s happy for him.
He’s on the road to finding love and caring for someone else is a promising step to de-freeze his cold heart.
Ezra didn’t convey any form of emotion and sported a poker face. Harry looked as if he was still gathering evidence in his mind while simultaneously waiting for Ezra to say something.
“A while ago, Y/n asked for my help.” Harry’s expression changed completely.
“Wha—“
“Patience Son.” He warned, gesturing for him to relax a bit—which he did reluctantly.
“She wasn’t feeling well and told me that she wanted to get some tests done.” The words rolled off his lips smoothly as if he wasn’t casually telling him that something was wrong with her. If it weren’t for Ezra, Harry would be halfway through the door right now.
“The only obstacle was you.”
“Me?” Harry’s voice was rather timid this time—another surprise for Ezra.
“Yes. If she asked for the agency’s doctor to perform them, then you would have known one way or another. The reason she avoided telling you remained unknown to me—but I did help her to get them done.” Harry’s mouth went dry and he felt his vision getting blurry.
Y/n was not feeling fine, and he thought she was slacking.
He was frozen in his place, stuck to the sofa trying to comprehend what his mentor just said. His chest tightened and his heartbeats increased gradually.
“I—“
“The tests came back and the doctor I contacted said that it’s mild anemia. Nothing too scary, it’s treatable.” Ezra stopped right there after noticing the change of color on Harry’s face. He looked like he was about to faint.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He immediately passed him a water bottle and watched him take a few sips with furrowed brows.
What is up with this boy, Ezra thought.
“Do you need food—“
“She doesn’t have a history of anemia, where the fuck did it come from?” He returned to his normal angry self by posing more questions.
“The doctor said that mild anemia can develop suddenly—due to lifestyle practices of course but Harry it’s manageable.“ He could no longer tell his body language. Was he angry? sad? overwhelmed?
Harry stared at the wall, avoiding eye contact but continued his knee bouncing. He unconsciously began cracking his knuckles as Ezra’s presence was erased from his mind.
Only Y/n occupied his thoughts.
His little minx.
She was sick, refused to inform him and all he did was make it worse. His nails dug into the leather sofa, almost tearing off a piece with how hard he pressed.
He was a fucking idiot for not noticing her cues. What kind of sick bastard was he?
“Harry!” Ezra stood in front of him, snapping his fingers to coax him back from his dissociation.
He had a file in his hand that he threw in Harry’s lap. “These are her tests. Take them and fix what you have done son. I know that you hate apologizing—but sometimes it’s what you should do with certain people like Y/n.”
Harry was up on his feet in seconds heading towards the door with the file in his hand.
“And Harry?”
He waited for him to turn around before continuing.
“I know nothing about this.” A hint of a smile was painted across his face with some mischief.
——————————————————
Y/n was curled up on her couch under her fuzzy blanket with a half-eaten chocolate bar next to her. Her tears barely dried before another wave came through upon remembering what unfolded a few hours ago.
She glanced to the other side of the room where her beloved (and only) companion was staring.
“He’s a meanie TimTim.” She wiped her tears using her sleeves as her sniffling increased.
Unfortunately, her companion cannot comfort her verbally. TimTim is a penguin plushie that has been with her through everything. The nature of her job prevented her from adopting a pet—something that she wanted so badly. Her constant absence did not make her qualified to look after a small creature, but TimTim sufficed.
“…but he has a good dick… and a good heart sometimes.” She rolled her eyes at her stupidness. No matter how badly someone hurt her, she’d always find an excuse to justify their actions.
Her recent argument with Harry had many layers to it. To begin with, he wasn’t exactly a love-dovie type of person. His attitude toward her was slightly less bitchy compared to other agents—but she also drove him nuts by throwing back sassy replies and remarks.
He was the most stubborn and cold-blooded man she had ever met, not because he liked to do it for fun or out of sadist tendencies—it was just his character.
Discipline, Respect, Loyalty. Those were his most sacred traits. Most agents nowadays were weak according to him, so he found himself resorting to tougher training and a harsher approach.
Her eyes didn’t swell with tears because of his sharp words and anger. Frankly, she knew how he could turn into someone else during training, and rightfully so.
But validation from him mattered. If she placed her biased feelings aside, she would find that he was her favorite superior. He’s a talented agent with the right principles and morals. She looked up to him.
She never wanted to disappoint him, but she managed to.
The more she thought about it, the more tears flowed out of her tear duct. The fury and frustration that he expressed pained her, it was so different from his usual smirks that were followed by praises.
When she could no longer handle his disappointment, she broke down revealing all the ache that she had been carrying.
Letting him down was never on her agenda, but neither was getting sick. She began noticing her decrease in performance a while ago, along with fainting twice. She dismissed it thinking that she just needed more sleep or perhaps more days off.
But when the symptoms persisted, she knew something was off. Telling Harry was not an option, mostly because she didn’t know how he would react but it also felt like something that must be kept a secret from him, so she resorted to Ezra.
He hasn’t replied but she spotted him from her peripheral vision upon leaving earlier today, and her emotions were all over the place to give two fucks, which explains why she came to her apartment.
Usually field agents like her sleep at the agency and dedicate their time to the secret service. She was one among many who became orphans at a young age, and this made it easier for the agency to make them stay there instead of in apartments.
No loved ones always meant a safer life for people like them.
Still, Y/n liked the idea of having a designated space for her. If she was destined to be lonely, she might as well learn to enjoy it.
So despite not being allowed to leave without prior notice, she immediately found herself in her cozy flat munching on chocolate and ranting to TimTim as she hiccuped and sniffled repeatedly.
What confused her even more was his expression of regret upon seeing her cry. She was too upset to register it, but now that she let everything out and recalled what went down, she was certain that it wasn’t something usual of him.
His entire demeanour switched and he was confused whether to step forward or backward as he softly whispered her name.
Did he act the same way with other agents? Fuck no.
But does that mean that he regretted what he had done?
Maybe his eyes that tried to decode her feelings exposed him, or his hand that unconsciously moved forward towards her body—
Y/n covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly as if her thoughts would stop colliding. Everything was puzzling her more and more. Was he disappointed or not?
The loud banging on her door pulled her out of her tangled thoughts and vulnerable character.
She certainly wasn’t around enough to become besties with her neighbors or have friends to pop in for girls’ night.
Perhaps the agency sent someone to get her, but how would they know that she came here? Maybe they just tried their luck—
The banging got louder as if it was a warning. Whoever was outside, planned to come inside no matter what.
Y/n immediately switched into agent mode and grabbed a gun from the nearest drawer. Better be safe than sorry.
She walked slowly to the door with careful footsteps and high heartbeats. The door didn’t have a hole in it, so she’d either have to ask who was outside—or open the door.
But her guest beat her to it.
“Y/n…open the door.” Harry’s voice made her take a step back. The fresh tear stains on her cheeks burned upon hearing his words. What brought him here?
Hell, a serial killer would’ve been less surprising.
“No.” She lowered her gun and relaxed her shoulders a bit. More tears threatened to fall as she slowly turned around toward the couch.
He hasn’t been to her apartment before which means that he had some fun with her record. He’s most likely here to drive her back to the agency where she’ll receive a warning for leaving—what else could be here for?
“Y/n… I can pick the lock, break the door, or you can just let me in.” He huffed in annoyance at her stubbornness. She might as well turn on the TV to ignore him.
They both knew that he wasn’t joking. He could break in if he wanted, but Y/n was too busy trying to understand why he came here.
“Listen, I know about the lab tests.” Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. Damn it, Ezra.
So this is what he’s here for. A double warning. One for leaving and one for not informing him of her sickness.
She was near the door in two seconds, unlocking it and facing him despite her messy look and tired teary face.
“Since when—“ She meant to stay focused. She really did. But as usual, he found a way to make her forget about her anger.
He was dressed normally. It was odd to see him in something outside of his work attire, even if it was a simple hoodie with matching joggers. He looked cozy.
But what made her jaw drop was the fresh bouquet of yellow tulips in his right hand.
He got her flowers?
He cleared his throat making her realize how shocked she looked, and he didn’t blame her. She was the first woman he bought flowers for, ever.
The sight of her swollen eye and dried tears made him tighten his grip on the bouquet. A sight that will never leave his mind.
“I—“ She tried to let out something but she failed and moved aside for him to enter.
“Why the tulips?” She stood with her arms crossed trying to decipher what was going on.
“You like them.” His answer was short and clear but it held more meaning. She doesn’t recall letting him in on her favorite flowers—
“I overheard you telling Tania.” He shrugged as if it was not a big deal to eavesdrop on other agents and then memorize Y/n’s favorite flower.
He scanned the apartment with his eyes carefully—a habit of his for safety. It was more out of curiosity as if it would whisper to him secrets about Y/n.
“Why are you here?” Her voice seemed timid and broken.
He ignored her query and continued scanning his surroundings for a hint of her personality.
“Chocolate…?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her but it was hard to focus or look her in the eye without noticing her puffy face.
“Here to lecture me?” She scoffed, walking past him to the safe corner she made on her couch.
She covered herself and returned to her previous position as if her superior at work was not standing before her—with her favorite flowers still in his hand.
What the fuck is up with the flowers, she thought.
“If you want to stand there and give your lecture, then be my guest.” She mumbled coldly without blinking once. The coziness from the soft blanket slowly came back, but Harry’s cold stare fought it.
The last thing she expected him to do was sit next to her and rest his hands on her legs. She had a billion questions swimming in her head and she bit her tongue to not ramble and ask what the fuck was going on.
“I’m Sorry.” It rolled off his lips so easily, but her ears couldn’t process it. She stayed silent and did not move an inch as she stared ahead, ignoring his warm touch.
If she can’t understand anything, she’ll just listen and observe cluelessly.
“I had no idea that you were sick— I wouldn’t have pushed you this much if I did. But still, that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t push you at all.” His words were direct and his voice was unshakeable. He was fully confident of what he was saying, with no shame.
She swallowed down her throat, fighting the tears threatening to fall down her face.
“I spoke with Ezra…and he gave me your tests. A doctor reviewed them and said it’s mild anemia.” The tears fell silently on her face disobeying her. Harry stopped speaking as if he felt her sadness.
“Could you get up a bit? Hmm?” He rubbed soothing circles on her skin and waited patiently for her answer.
She slowly lifted herself despite her reluctance, but still refused to look him in the eye. He can see her tears falling from the side and it makes him want to punch a wall.
“Attagirl. Look at me please.” He stroked her cheek softly with his knuckles.
She slowly turned her face in his direction as his hand reached out to wipe her tears.
“You’re pretty when you cry, but I don’t like it.” He whispered with his voice being barely audible. His eyes were fixated on her gorgeous lashes that she batted at him. How did she exist like an angel so casually?
“Yeah well, it was you who made me cry.” She mumbled like a child, crossing her arms at her chest.
“I’m a dickhead.” He laughed at the cute face she made with his hand still wiping any new tears that fall.
He’ll be damned if he’ll let her cry again.
“I know.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for the file next to him.
“Y/n—“
“What did the doctor say?”
“Like I said, it’s mild anemia. But nothing too dangerous. I got you the supplement he prescribed.” Harry gestured to the bottle placed near the flowers.
“And you missy will have your diet monitored by me. I want you eating iron-filled foods—“ He barely completely his sentence before Y/n was groaning loudly and slumping backward on the couch.
“Get up. Don’t make me tickle you.” He warned and she lifted herself within seconds with a pout on her face.
“Now the question is… why were you ignoring your needs?” It was the only question that she wished he wouldn’t ask. But nothing can stop him from knowing what he wants.
She stared at TimTim despite his piercing gaze on her hoping that the plushie could rescue her somehow.
“I wasn’t ignoring them, I guess I simply didn’t realize.” She swallowed down her throat, avoiding eye contact.
“You didn’t want to tell me.” He pressed further. His tone was soft but impatient—he’d beg on his knees if he had to.
“I—“ She focused her gaze on TimTim again causing Harry to turn his head around for a look.
“A plushie?” He scrunched his face in shock.
“So?” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms against her chest. She seemed ready to punch him if he made fun of her.
“No comment.” He raised his hands in the air letting out a soft smile. It was a rare sight, but a beautiful one. She liked seeing him smile as his dimples popped up on his soft face.
“Don’t run away from the question though.” He whispered with his eyes begging her for the truth.
Her tears had dried but her face was still puffy and her eyes were swollen. There weren’t any tears to wipe but that didn’t stop Harry from reaching out his hand to caress her cheeks.
His warm touch was weird to decipher, it seemed able to burn her at times, just like his words.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” She blurted out suddenly before inhaling sharply in shock as if her mouth betrayed her without permission.
Harry’s facial expression shifted from softness to something she couldn’t decode—but the pain was recognizable.
She lowered her gaze as her cheeks became flushed with embarrassment. His hand slowly inched away from her skin, feeling unworthy of touching her.
“You could never disappoint me.” He whispered it like a promise. A sacred one. He couldn’t believe that she would think like that even for a second.
He was so fucking proud of her. He pushed her earlier today but he was lenient with her before. A bullet wound would’ve been better to take than her confession.
She mattered to him whether he was aware or not but the clutch in his chest must’ve given him a hint.
“Look at me, please.”
She lifted her chin reluctantly and looked him in the eye. This was her first time seeing him this vulnerable—it was so easy to read his eyes.
“There’s no way you could disappoint me. Ever.”
“I slacked in performance—“
“Fuck that. You need rest.” He shook his head, denying all the false thoughts she had.
“What I did earlier was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” It was more of a vow than a promise.
Silence filled the apartment after his last sentence. They shamelessly stared into each other’s eyes despite the intrusion of TimTim. Harry knew that if he didn’t do or say something—he’d have his lips on her in mere seconds.
“I should get going.” He cleared his throat and stood up.
Y/n was still going through a rollercoaster of emotions. She ached to ask him something back, it was fair to do so. But instead, she decided to let him go.
“Also…” He fetched a paper out of his hand and left it on her couch. “You’re allowed a week of rest. That means no training, no gym, and you can stay here.”
Surprise was prominent on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.
“No objections. I need you to rest.” She’s not sure if this was allowed—if the board knew about the leave he granted her. It seemed to pile up amongst many of the other things she wondered about.
“Okay…” She balanced herself on her feet and walked him to the door.
“This doesn’t mean I’m done being mad at you.” She mumbled sarcastically.
“Good. I like it when you’re bratty.” He winked at her as he opened the door.
She watched him walk away before turning around and looking at her.
“Oh and Y/n? I’ll have a customized meal plan delivered to your house. For fuck’s sake don’t live off chocolate.”
“But—“
“No buts and take your supplement.” His voice echoed in the building as he descended the stairs.
She stood motionless at the door with her arms folded against her chest as she scrunched her face and rolled her eyes at his bossy orders.
“Don’t roll your eyes missy.” His voice was distant signaling that he reached the ground floor. She slammed the door shut in response, unable to contain the smile that crept up on her face.
She didn’t lie to TimTim—he does have a good heart sometimes, but discipline remains cherished.
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freedomfireflies · 14 days
Text
Teenage Dirtbag*
Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”
“27.”
“Harry, come on.”
“What?”
“I need an answer.”
“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”
Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are.”
“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"
“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?” 
“Mm.”
“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”
“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”
“27.”
“Harry.”
He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um…right.”
He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”
“I…” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”
“Oh, did I? Oops.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah. But you like me.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes now. Always.”
You huff. “I’m not…I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”
“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”
“Harry—”
“What, angel?”
You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”
“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”
“We agreed to study.”
“We are.”
“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”
“So?”
“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”
“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.
You grab the cards. “Oops.”
Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat. 
“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”
“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”
“Because I have you.”
“Yeah, well…that’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”
You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”
“Mm…for now.”
“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”
Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”
“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”
You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”
“What? They’re just words, baby.”
“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”
He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”
You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”
“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”
“Harry…”
“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”
You start to squirm. “H…H, please—”
“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”
You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say…the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.
You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.
His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.” 
Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H…”
He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it. 
The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.
However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.
Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.
“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”
“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.
“I know. But today is not that day.”
Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.
“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.
He winks.
With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.
And every trace of Harry has gone.
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“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”
“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me…I’m out.”
“Deal.”
You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.
Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present. 
You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.
Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.
But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.
You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.
He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.
And that’s when he finds you.
Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.
He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.
“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.
“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”
Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.
Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.
And the same earrings you’re wearing now.
But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”
You smirk. “You guess?”
“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like…I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”
To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.
“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”
You laugh. “More than all right. I’m…I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”
“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or…just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”
“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.
He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.
He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are…well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before. 
Compared to them, you’re just…you.
Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.
You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.
“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”
You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this…now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.
“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”
“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”
You lean back. “You saw?”
“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”
“H…”
“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I…I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just…it’s hard—”
He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 
You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret. 
And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.
And you’ll be devastated.
Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.
He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.
Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.
“Wait…wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not…not when you’ve been drinking—”
“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”
Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”
He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But…I kind of live here, so…”
“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”
“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress. 
You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you. 
You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”
Your lashes flutter. “Thought…thought it would be easier.”
“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”
The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.
“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.
You swallow. “…yes.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”
You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”
“Mhm. Not Zack.”
“No. No, not Zack.”
He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”
Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his…
You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.
He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.
He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.
“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”
“I…I know, I just…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”
And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.
You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.
And once he starts…things don’t seem so bad.
His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still. 
You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.
“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”
You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes…yes, I’m…I’m all right. Am I…am I too—”
“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”
And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside. 
You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.
But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then…he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.
“What…what did I do?” you pant.
He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you…do you want me to…?”
He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”
“I…I know.”
“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”
You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”
“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”
“Oh…”
His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”
Your lips part. “You…oh.”
“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”
“Yeah, we…yeah. I…I don’t mind. I just…I don’t know…”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”
It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”
Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.
And that’s your favorite part.
“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”
You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants. 
He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”
You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.
You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking. 
“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”
You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”
You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body. 
You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”
Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.
The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.
And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.
But after feeling him…feeling all of him…you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again. 
And now, well…now you don’t think you can go without.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”
“Mm…mhm.”
“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”
With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.
“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”
You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.
“Okay. Keep going.”
You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them. 
“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”
Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it. 
And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again. 
The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.
Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.
“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”
You only mewl. Loud and incoherent. 
He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.
His bandana.
It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now…until he smirks.
“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”
Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”
“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”
Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.
“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”
You nod.
“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”
Your lashes flutter.
“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”
Another nod, slower.
“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”
Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.
The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth. 
Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow…euphoric. 
He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more. 
And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.
“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”
You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum. 
“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”
Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.
“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”
You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.
So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.
Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling. 
He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.
He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”
He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.
You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything. 
And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either. 
“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”
“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”
“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”
His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”
“Mm…unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Might hurt.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”
“Tell her you’re staying.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”
“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”
The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just…I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”
His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”
He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.
Until the door opens.
And Zack walks in.
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God I love fratrry 😭💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry
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harrysfolklore · 6 months
Text
dog love - blurb
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day 3!! if you’re still following along ilysm okay?💗
GIF BY @delicatepointofview <3
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
//
Yours and Harry's relationship was still a secret to the world.
Even though both of you were famous for your careers and fans and media were always following your every step, you have managed to keep what you had to yourselves for six months now.
Rumors were out there, for sure. And they started when you decided to be in the crowd with Harry's friends for his final show in Reggio Emilia, instead of hiding from prying eyes backstage.
However, no one had really caught up that you were in a relationship, people just assumed that you were friends and you wanted to see the show.
Right now, you and Harry were spending a few months together in his London home, you decided to do that since soon you both would have to go back to your busy careers and be away from each other. You basically moved in to his place, with your dog included.
"Milo! Come over here buddy!" You called out for him, sitting on the den and watching play around Harry's backyard, "You're such a good boy!" You cooed at him when he curled up to you.
"What are you pals doing?" Harry asked, walking through the sliding door that connected the kitchen and the backyard, sitting down next to you and pecking your shoulder quickly.
"We're just hanging out over here," you turned your face to look at him, matching his soft smile, "But I think Milo is eager to go outside, poor thing couldn't go on his walk yesterday because of the rain."
"I can take him for a walk," Harry said, and you noticed that he was indeed dressed up to go outside, "I'm actually meeting with Brad in a few minutes, I can take him with me."
"Would you?" you asked, and he pecked your cheek, standing up and offering his hand so you could join him.
"Of course, love. I can pick up some wine and food on the way back for dinner, you stay here and relax."
You pecked his lips softly before speaking, "You're a dream," he smiled and pecked your lips again, "And you, be a good boy for H, okay?" you knelled down to pet Milo, and with a final kiss to Harry's lips they were off.
You took in Harry's words and decided to relax since you had the house to yourself, you filled up the bathtub, lit up a scented candle and put on some music, leaving your phone behind as you took a bubble bath.
When you were done in the bathroom and clad in one of Harry's soft hoodies, you grabbed your phone and decided to lurk on social media as you waited for Harry and Milo to come home.
You opened Tiktok, your explore page showing you some Harry videos, cute dogs and even some edits of yourself. When you got bored of scrolling there, you decided to open Twitter, which wasn't your favorite platform at all but every now and then you got there to see what fans were on about.
However, you were surprised to find out that what fans have been discussing over the last few hours was Harry walking your dog.
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At first, you found funny that his fans were trying to decode if he had adopted a dog, or where did the dog had come from, not knowing hat it was your dog and you were practically living with him.
However, your mood changed when you scrolled down and saw that they somehow connected the dots and found out that the dog with Harry and Brad was your Milo.
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You shook your head, surprised by how quickly fans could put the  pieces together, and not sure about how to feel about yours and Harry's relationship being exposed by your dog.
As in on cur, you heard Harry and Milo walking up the stairs to the bedroom, and soon you saw both of them enter the room.
"We're back, love!" Harry cheerfully said, sitting on the end of the bed and Milo staying close to him, "Brought the wine and some food, are you hungry yet?"
"I think Milo just exposed our relationship." You simply said, laughing and how comical the situation sounded out loud.
"What do you mean?" a confused look appeared on Harry's face, and you showed him your phone so he could see.
After a few minutes of scrolling to your Twitter and seeing what fans were saying, Harry couldn't help but find the situation comical too.
"Well, that's better than TMZ, right?"
taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry
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cupid-styles · 4 days
Text
daisy 3 - the epilogue (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
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the final part!! sorry it took forever for me to finish this series. I really hope you guys enjoyed it and like this little part that wraps everything up :)
part one | part two
word count: 2.9k
content warnings: inappropriate relationship, minor age gap (4 years), not ramadan friendly
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N and Harry shift into a relationship — or what feels like one — faster than either could have ever anticipated. 
In hindsight, Y/N supposes it makes sense. They’d been suppressing romantic and intimate feelings for each other and now that it’d all come to a peak (no pun intended), tangled between Y/N’s cotton sheets, it felt oddly… natural.
The entire thing made her warm with happiness, a busy kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through her tummy every time she even thought of waking up next to Harry. They hadn’t had another sleepover since that evening, and admittedly, she’d been a bit scared that she would wake up to rushed apologies and explanations of “I need to get out of here, this was a mistake”, but it had been quite the opposite. 
The following morning, when her sleepy eyes cracked open, she felt a warm weight pressed up against her back. It took her a moment to come to, but when she did, she remembered the strenuous activities from the night prior, and blushed and rolled over to find the object of her affection waking up from his own deep sleep. 
“Morning,” he’d croaked before smiling through puffy eyes. “Can I make you breakfast?”
That had been two weeks ago, and it seemed like the cotton candy cloud they were floating on had yet to touch the ground.
It went without saying that they were still extremely careful on campus — however, now that the temperatures were shifting into a more comfortable number, jackets were being shed and bright tulip bulbs and crocuses were beginning to pop up from the moist soil. They were telltale signs that spring was steadily bolting their way, which meant that the end of the semester was, too. Between the hopeful weather and the pastel-hued beginnings of a relationship between the two, it was enough to pull Y/N from the inklings of her seasonal depression and Harry from his own existential dread. 
In short: It was good. Things were finally good, even if they hadn’t talked things through or officially decided on what they were doing yet. Y/N thinks she was okay with that, as long as it meant she was on the receiving end of Harry’s gentle kisses or his sweet goodnight texts. 
Yeah. She could most definitely live with that.
. . .
“I found a kitten last night.”
The words make Y/N blink her eyes open. Their lips hadn’t even been fully disconnected by the time his words were ghosting over the seam of her mouth, an apparent eagerness to verbalize this new development from the past 24 hours. 
“Oh?” Y/N asks with a quirked brow, fingertips focused on the feeling of his soft knit cardigan. 
“When I was taking the garbage out,” he quickly explains. “She was hiding behind the trash cans.”
“She?”
Harry shifts from foot to foot and Y/N immediately identifies his body language as nervousness — he’s nervous to tell her about this cat he found near his building complex, and the thought, for some reason, makes her body bubble with giggles. 
“I looked to see if she had a collar or tag or anything and she doesn’t. I took her in and washed her off. She was starving, but I was thinking of taking her to the vet when I leave campus today.”
Y/N hums, “Well if she was starving and dirty, it’s a good thing she found you.”
A pinkish flush flowers over Harry’s cheeks and he shrugs his shoulders. “The vet in town is always swamped with college kids impulsively adopting animals. I was thinking of taking her to the one a bit further away.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” Y/N nods, tugging the strap of her tote bag a little closer to her body. Harry normally isn’t so slow in his goodbyes to her, and she really needs to get to the library to work on an essay outline. 
“Will you come with me?”
Her eyebrows nearly fly up to the ceiling. They’ve never done anything in public together — not since they saw each other at Target a few months back, and that doesn’t even count because they weren’t seeing each other back then. It was something that made Y/N toss and turn at night. She knew that in the eyes of the university, their relationship was forbidden — neither of them were that dim to understand that — but in any other context, there was no reason why a couple of their age couldn’t be together. It sometimes made her wish that they did meet under different circumstances, like at a bar or even swiping right on a dating app. 
“I was thinking maybe you could stay over afterwards, because the only appointment they had available for this evening was at 7 pm and I’m not sure how late we would get back,” Harry tacks on, and the addition only makes her stomach continue to swarm with nervous butterflies. “You can say no. I just thought it would be nice. A stay-at-home date, maybe.”
She’s nodding like a robot before her brain even allows her the opportunity to think it over. And yeah, call her childish, maybe, but the thought of him calling it a date — she supposes this is the closest they can get to one in the near future — makes her heart skip a beat.
“That does sound nice,” she agrees with a smile. “Do you want to pick me up at 6? I’ll… I can pack a bag and we’ll go from the vet to yours later on?”
He nods, mirroring her own enthusiastic grin. “Okay.”
. . .
After a marathon at the library (she was in the beginning stages of doing research on a comparative essay on Emily Brontë’s work), Y/N trekked back to her apartment, stuffed some food down her throat, showered, and packed a bag for Harry’s. 
She was a little nervous — okay, maybe fairly nervous, considering the last time they did anything close to this, it had all been very spur of the moment. Things weren’t awkward because of it (it was the opposite, actually), but the rest of their relationship had been spent in Harry’s tiny office. They played footsies while they graded, ordered takeout to the English building while they spoke about their days, and snuck loved-up smiles when they passed each other on campus, but this felt more… finite, maybe. Real. Like they could exist outside the confines of their university.
Harry texts her when he’s on his way and then when he’s downstairs at 6 o’clock on the dot (here xx, which makes Y/N’s heart flutter). She has her usual purse on one shoulder and a tote bag on the other, where she’s packed pajamas for the night, an outfit for tomorrow, and all of her toiletries. She swallows as she locks the front door and turns to see the familiar navy sedan parked right outside, biting her lip when she sees the curly haired brunette in the driver’s seat. 
“Hey,” he greets the second she gets in the car. She flashes him a smile, though his own facial expression exudes an air of nervousness, “Do you know much about cats?” 
“Um, my sister brought a stray in when we were kids. We only kept her for a few days, but I guess I know a little.”
Harry nods, “I’m scared she’s anxious back there. I tried to make the carrier as comfortable as possible for her, but she’s probably nervous, right? She’s in a weird guy’s car and she doesn’t know where she’s going.”
Y/N breathes out a laugh as she twists her body to look in the backseat. Low and behold, there’s a brand new carrier with a small kitten inside. She coos at its salt and pepper fur as she unlocks the gate, gently reaching in to grab the cat. She can’t be larger than a few pounds, and Harry’s right about her being nervous — she’s trembling, whether it be from the confusion of the situation or an issue the vet will likely tell them about. 
“Here, I’ll hold her for the ride,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of her head, “She just needs some love, hm?” 
“She kept slipping on the hardwood floors in my apartment last night. I felt so bad.” Harry replies as he puts the car in drive, a slight pout on his lips. Y/N laughs lightly at the thought, stroking her forefinger over the kitten’s back. 
“Poor baby,” she glances up at Harry, blinking when she realizes he’d been glimpsing down between them and the road, “Did you think of any names for her?”
He coughs and flicks his right signal on, “Um, yeah. I thought of a few. Haven’t really decided on anything yet, though. I guess it depends on whether or not the vet thinks it’s a good idea to keep her.”
“Sure,” Y/N hums, though she can already tell from her brief knowledge of pets that the likelihood of this little kitten having a home is slim. She’s tiny and underweight and doesn’t have a collar, which means she probably isn’t chipped, either. “I think you’d do well as a cat dad. Maybe you can adopt if this little one doesn’t work out.”
“You think so?”
A small smile cracks at the edges of Y/N lips. It’s apparent that Harry’s scared and needs some sort of reassurance from someone, and she’s happy to be the provider. “Of course I do. I think you have a lot of love to give, Harry.”
She watches as his throat bobs before his own lips form a gentle smile. 
“Yeah. I think I do, too.” 
He reaches over and carefully intertwines their fingers together. When she gives his hand a small squeeze, she thinks she sees his body visibly relax. 
. . .
As Y/N anticipated, the kitten Harry found doesn’t belong to anyone. 
The vet does a thorough check-up and the results are relatively positive; she’s just on the malnourished side and will need a lot of food, love, and care to get her to a place where she’s considered to be healthy. She advises Harry to bring the cat back in a month to do another weigh-in just to make sure her diet is nutritionally-dense enough, and he has no problem agreeing. 
Y/N scoops the kitten up and gently scratches and pets at the back of her head as Harry talks to the receptionist, supplying information about his name and phone number for the follow-up appointment. It’s only when he’s asked for the kitten’s name that he somewhat freezes. Y/N peers up, assuming he’s just nervous because he hasn’t settled on anything yet. It’s understandable, she supposes — if her parents had let her and her sister keep that kitten from their childhood, they probably would have named it “Princess Muffins” or “Little Lady Kisses”, which Y/N just thinks is embarrassing for the cat.
“Ophelia,” he murmurs lowly before coughing into his hand. The receptionist doesn’t question it as she quickly types it in, but it makes Y/N’s eyebrows raise. She continues scratching at Harry’s newly named cat, using her blunt fingernails to slowly rub the patches of fur behind her ears. She’s not sure if she’s being too fussy and self-centered, but if she remembers correctly, the first time she and Harry met, they talked about how Ophelia from Hamlet was a big inspiration for Y/N’s capstone project. She shrugs it off, especially when they’re done at the vet and they step into the low light of the evening. Silently, they walk side-by-side and back to Harry’s car. 
Daylight savings, despite being a stupid concept, arrived just a few weeks prior, which means they’re now privy to a few more hours of daylight before night stretches over the sky. It’s nice — spring hasn’t completely sprung up yet, but there are little reminders here and there that it’s coming. It isn’t freezing tonight but there’s a slight chill in the air, so both she and Harry are bundled up beneath cozy crewneck sweatshirts. He pulls the sleeves of his over his knuckles and the small action makes Y/N’s heart squeeze.
“Are you fine to hold her on the drive back?” Harry asks once they’re back in his car. She nods happily, content with having a small, cuddly kitten curl up on her lap for the next 30 minutes. The evening sunlight bathes the interior of the vehicle as Harry pulls out of his parking spot, flicking on his left blinker to take them back to his place. 
“D’you wanna get Thai for dinner?” Y/N asks, suppressing a yawn as she turns her head to look at the male beside her. Again, she watches as his muscles melt a bit, less rigid than they were just a moment or two before, and a smile edges at his lips as he nods his head. 
“That sounds great. Could go for some pad thai.”
“Mm, me too,” she agrees, taking her phone out to pull up the ordering app, “Can we split some dumplings, too?”
“I’d love that.”
She smiles to herself and they chat aimlessly and quietly about their respective orders, each of them deciding on noodle dishes (Harry opts for a veggie-only option while Y/N picks shrimp) and an order of mushroom dumplings. She asks if he’s vegetarian or trying to be — she presumes it’d be a rather important thing to know about the person she’s… dating? Casually seeing? What were they doing? — but he shrugs noncommittally, as he does for many questions she asks. It’s almost as if he’s not used to people asking him about his likes and preferences, and she thinks that’s dumb. She wants to know everything there is to know about him. 
When she prods him about his vegetable forward habits, he finally explains that no, he’s not a vegetarian, but he likes to eat meat-free when he can. This prompts her to ask him about his other tastes: His favorite ice cream flavor (Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food, which she approves of), his favorite flowers (pink tulips because his mom used to grow them), and his go-to drink when he goes out (“I never go out, I’m an old man, but I am partial to a tequila soda”). 
Her time playing 20 Questions is finally up after he picks up their food and they arrive back at his place. By now, the sun has fully retreated and Ophelia is sound asleep in Y/N’s lap. When he puts the car in park, he stops her before they go inside. 
“Why are you asking me all these things?” he asks with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. She resists the urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb.
“I just wanna know. I’m curious.” she replies, shrugging.
“You wanna know about the first album I ever bought and how old I was when I had my first kiss?”
“Of course I do,” she pauses, confused. “Why? Do you not want me to know those things?”
He shakes his head. “No, no. I just… I don’t know. I’m surprised.”
“I don’t know how much more forward I can be with my feelings,” she says softly, nibbling on her bottom lip, “I know this is technically against the rules or whatever, but… I like you. You know that, right? That what I feel for you goes beyond sex and some silly fantasy.”
She watches as he swallows tightly. 
“I like you too,” he murmurs, reaching out to take her free hand into his. “I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the best of me but it’s just… odd, I guess, to imagine that you really, truly like me. I sound like a middle schooler, god—”
“Don’t do that.” she quickly shakes her head. If it weren’t for Ophelia still perched atop her thighs, she’d reach forward and take his face between her hands. “Don’t belittle yourself. I like you, Harry. So much that I’m willing to risk my status as a student. You get that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he nods swiftly, “And you understand what I’m risking, right?”
It’s not meant to be a one-up — it’s genuine and it’s real, and she nods her head and swallows the small lump of tears that’s developed in her throat. It’s the reality of their relationship and it’s necessary to address, especially if either one of them wants to go any further. 
With Harry, he has more to lose. He’d be fired, of course, but his degrees could be taken into question, too. His license as a professor. Everything he’s worked for, all potentially wasted on Y/N.
It’s a heavy weight for her to wear.
But, as if he can read her mind (or maybe he can just read her facial expression), he gives her hand a squeeze. 
“And you’re more than worth it, Y/N.” he says with soft eyes. 
“Will you be my boyfriend?” she blurts out without thinking. Her eyes immediately widen while Harry’s crease with happiness, and she’d contemplate taking back if not for the massive grin that stretches across his face. 
“Truly, I thought you’d never ask,” he replies cheekily, and Y/N responds with a gentle swat to the chest. He laughs. “I did name my cat after you, after all.”
. . .
That night, when Harry has Ophelia tucked into one side and Y/N into the other, and she’s half-asleep as they watch another episode of whatever docuseries she convinced him to turn on, after they’ve eaten themselves into a Thai food coma and talked about the latest books they’ve read with promises to exchange them, he realizes he’s never been so happy in his life. 
Y/N can comfortably say the same. 
395 notes · View notes
jarritomylob · 7 months
Text
Masterlist recs pt.2
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Hello!! A 2nd part to great writers here in tumblr :) masterlists below:
@stylesswrites
Masterlist
@gucciwins
Masterlist
@avatar-anna
Masterlist
@astranva
Masterlist
@glitteredrry
Masterlist
@loveontourlove
Masterlist
@hes-writer
Masterlist
@harryimaginedstories
Masterlist
@satanhalsey
Masterlist
@secret-rendezvous1d
Masterlist
@watermelonsugacry
Masterlist
@musicforastylesrestaurant
Masterlist
@gucciharrywritings
Masterlist
716 notes · View notes
justice4canyonmoon · 11 months
Note
something about y/n losing her virginity to harry? please
I hope you enjoy almost 3k words of the softest filth I've ever written 😉 Also, I pictured this as LHH (my beloved) so that's why he's described as having long hair!
warnings: smut!! 18+ only!! vaginal fingering, nipple play (briefly), p in v sex, loss of virginity, innocent reader, soft dom! harry
WC: 2.8 k
Your parents always told you to wait until marriage. Said it wasn’t “ladylike” to give yourself to someone before you were truly dedicated to one another for life. And for a long time you believed them. But now, you were about to graduate college, and you still hadn’t had sex. Your friends all had: Sarah, Mitch, Adam, Harry, Niall, and all of the other people you hung out with found someone to suit them (with Mitch and Sarah it was each other, which you all totally called your freshman year). But you still hadn’t. And you had to say, you didn’t really believe your parents anymore. You wanted to see what the fuss was about. And you wanted it with Harry.
You had always had a bit of a crush on him: the long curls, bright green eyes, full lips, and dimple had drawn you in when you first met in your math class, but his sweet smile, gentle laugh, and kindness made you fall head over heels. Every time he got a new partner, your heart broke a little more, and every time he broke up with them, it healed again. You went through this vicious cycle all throughout your schooling, but tonight, you thought maybe you could break out of it. Harry had been single throughout your whole senior year, and your friends were hanging out at his place tonight. Maybe you could get him alone…
“Alright, I think you’ve had a few too many, Mitch. I’ll get him home.”
Sarah held her boyfriend up, still giggling at how he could barely get up from the chair. Adam had already gone home, since he had an 8-page final essay due for his writing class, and Niall hadn’t been able to come since he was studying for his music theory final. As soon as Harry finished helping Sarah get Mitch out to her car, he came back to find you still on his couch, taking a small sip from the bottle of hard cider you had been drinking. You purposefully didn’t drink enough to get you drunk, wanting to remember this. Sure, this could go horribly wrong and Harry could reject you and not want to be your friend again. But maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way as you. And you would get what you wanted.
“Will you need a ride home? Or are you okay to drive?” he asked.
You smiled, “I’ve only drank one bottle of cider. I’ll be fine, H.”
He smiled back, sitting beside you once more, “Can’t believe it’s almost over. I’ll miss you all when we go.”
“Me too,” you replied, “but I think I’ll miss you the most.”
Harry quirked up a brow, his smile becoming more of a smirk, “Oh, really? And why would that be?”
You sighed, pushing down your nerves and steeling yourself for a potential rejection.
“Because I want you, H. As more than just my friend.”
You paused, waiting for his answer. You locked eyes, trying to read his expression, but it was unusually blank. There was silence. A bit too much. Then his response.
“I wish you had told me that earlier. Before we were about to move home.”
You took one of his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers.
“I’ve liked you for so long, Harry. But it seemed like every time I worked up the nerve to say something, you’d be with someone else. I didn’t want that to happen again, so I just didn’t say anything,” you explained.
His eyes softened, holding a twinge of guilt, “Only dated other people because I didn’t think I could be yours. Didn’t want to ruin the friendship.”
He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You couldn’t help but get a little flustered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.
“I felt the same way. Except I just stayed single because I’m a loser,” you joked.
A frown stretched across his lips, “No, you’re not. Don’t say things like that.”
“Well no one’s ever fucked me, so I think that might be true.”
And there it was. The invitation you wanted to send. You could only hope that he would accept. 
Harry looked you in the eyes, his expression unusually serious compared to the bright eyed, joyful man you’d come to know.
“I don’t ever want you to think that about yourself. You’re such a lovely person, could never be a loser,” you smiled bashfully at that, but he continued, “and, well, if you’d like to change that…”
He trailed off, knowing you would know what he meant.
“I do, Harry,” you pulled him closer to you, your knees touching because of your close proximity, “I want that with you. I just wouldn’t really know where to start.”
He let go of your hand in favor of cupping your jaw, brushing his thumb against your soft skin, “Would you like me to teach you?”
You nodded, feeling a bit too shy to speak now. Harry smiled reassuringly, gently resting his other hand on your thigh.
“Let me know what you feel comfortable with, okay?”
“Okay,” you managed to get out.
That was all he needed before his lips were on yours. 
They were just as soft as you imagined: plush, pink, and experienced as they moved against your own. You had kissed someone before, so this was at least familiar territory. But soon, he pulled you into his lap, his long curls tickling your skin as he deepened the kiss. You couldn’t help but gasp softly in surprise as his hands moved from cupping your cheek to wrapping around your waist. You felt almost dizzy, and it was just a kiss.
Harry pulled away then, looking deep into your eyes, “Still okay?”
You nodded, but he shook his head, “Need you to tell me. I want to make sure I have your full permission for everything we do.”
Your heart swelled. You doubted you’d find any other man who would treat you like this.
“I’m okay, Harry. Still a little nervous.”
He smiled, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you. May I take this off?”
You hadn’t even noticed he was tugging on your shirt, but his question brought it to your attention.
Remembering his request, you said, “Yes, H.”
You lifted your arms above your head as he undressed you. You couldn’t help but feel a bit shy at your exposed position, moving your arms to cover yourself.
“Fucking beautiful,” Harry cooed, gently unwrapping your arms from your torso, “don’t need to hide from me, baby, you’re so damned pretty.”
Heat rose to your cheeks again as you mumbled a bashful “thank you.”
“Here, I’ll take mine off too.”
You gawked as Harry stripped his shirt off, revealing his toned and tattooed torso. 
“Glad you’re enjoying the show,” he quipped as he stood from the couch, “but I’m not doing any more until we get to the bedroom. Not taking your virginity on my couch.”
You broke eye contact, slightly embarrassed as you stood up as well, “I didn’t mean to stare, H.”
He gently gripped your hips and leaned forward, lips brushing your ear, “I want you to look, darling.”
As quickly as he stepped into your space, he left it, walking the short distance to his bedroom and gesturing for you to follow. You did, still flustered as you walked past him into the familiar space. Harry closed the door behind you, despite the two of you being alone, and sat on the bed, patting his lap.
“Come here, baby.”
You quickly obeyed, sitting on his lap.
He cupped your face in his hands again, “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, please tell me. It’s okay if we don’t go the whole way today, just want you to feel safe.”
“I’ll tell you, I promise. But I don’t think anything you’ll do will make me feel uncomfortable,” you answered honestly, making him smile.
He leaned in and kissed you again, reintroducing the familiar motions. You went along happily, already addicted to his kisses. But soon, he was gently laying you back until your back was against the mattress. Harry’s hands traveled down your body, stopping at your bra.
“May I?”
“Of course, H.”
He unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the ground carelessly as he took in your fully topless torso. His large hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing against your nipples. You jumped from his touch, making him chuckle.
“Sensitive, aren’t you?” he remarked before replacing his thumbs with his lips, licking and sucking at your pert nipples.
You gasped, grabbing at his luscious curls, “Oh, Harry.” 
You felt him smile against you as he continued his ministrations. You barely noticed his hands traveling down until they tugged at the zipper of your jeans. He looked up at you, silently asking permission.
You nodded, lifting your hips, “Please, H, take them off.”
Harry obliged, undoing the zipper and button of your jeans and tugging them down your legs until you were left in just your panties. He lifted his head and drank you in, tugging down the cotton fabric until you were bare before him. Just like before, you felt a bit shy from the attention, but Harry wasn’t letting you cover up.
“Shit, baby, you’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
You had lost count of the amount of times you blushed, “Y-you thought about this?”
“So many times,” he confessed, “wanted to be the first one who made you feel good.”
“I’ve wanted that too. For so long. But you can’t do that if you still have your pants on,” you teased.
He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right. Want to help me?”
You nodded eagerly, tugging the zipper down on his ridiculously tight jeans and helping to shove them down his thick thighs. Now all that was separating you was his boxers. There was a sizeable tent in the fabric, and Harry laughed softly again when he caught you staring.
“Want me to take those off, too?”
You nodded, not bothering with words since he knew how needy you were. He guided your hand to the waistband of his underwear, encouraging you to drag them down. And you did so happily.
Holy shit, he was big.
Of course, this was the first time you had seen a cock, so you supposed you didn’t have much to go off of. But it looked big. 
Harry could see the nerves return to your expression, “Don’t worry, lovely. It won’t hurt. I’ll open you up a bit first. Lay back down.”
You listened, laying your head back on the plush pillows as Harry leaned forward, hovering above you. His hands gently ran along your thighs. You knew he was doing it to make sure that you were comfortable, but quite honestly, you were beginning to get a little impatient.
“Want it, H. Need your fingers.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Not so shy anymore, hm? Am I making you wait too long?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer his question, running his fingers through your folds to collect your wetness on his fingers. The response you would’ve had came out as a choked moan as you watched him slip his fingers into his mouth.
“Taste so fucking good,” Harry groaned, “definitely eating this perfect pussy next time.”
Heat rose to your cheeks once more at the implication that there would be a next time. But you didn’t have much of a chance to think about it as he used those fingers to spread your pussy open.
“So pretty,” he murmured almost to himself, dragging his fingers through your wet folds.
“Please, Harry,” you whined, tired of being teased.
He smiled at you, “Don’t worry, baby. Said I’d take care of you.”
And his first finger entered you, stretching your entrance in a way it hadn’t been before. Sure, you’d used your own fingers and a toy or two. But it was so different in the best way when someone else did it. 
“Shit,” you gasped as he stretched you open, smirking at how tight you were against just one of his fingers.
“Relax for me, baby. Gonna need at least one more finger, if not two to make sure you’re nice and ready for me.”
You willed yourself to relax, allowing yourself to sink into the pillows as he pressed inside of you. He pulled out completely before re-entering with two fingers, making you moan out in pleasure.
“Oh fuck! Harry!”
“That’s it, beautiful. Look so good taking my fingers like this,” he praised, curling his fingers inside of you, “bet you’ll look even prettier with my cock.”
“Want it, Harry, please,” you begged.
“Not yet, pretty. Need to make sure you’re nice and stretched open for me.”
He took his sweet time, teasing you with the slow drag of his fingers. The sounds coming from your pussy were obscene, wetness squelching around his fingers as he fucked you. You could feel the coil in your belly and your pussy clenched around him.
“Gonna cum for me, baby? Can feel you squeezing me.”
You nodded, already too far gone to speak. Harry smirked, then leaned in to suck your clit. 
You saw stars, vision becoming slightly fuzzy as you experienced the best orgasm of your life. He fucked you through it, fingers not stopping as you soaked them.
“That’s it, pretty. So good for me,” he praised.
When you came down from your high, Harry smirked at you, “Think you're ready for this cock, baby?”
“Please, Harry! Need to feel you in me, please,” you begged, not particularly caring if you sounded desperate. 
He rolled a condom over his cock and lined himself up with your entrance.
Harry’s expression turned serious again, “Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts at all.”
You nodded, “I will, H, promise.”
Satisfied with your answer, he leaned in and kissed you softly as his tip breached your entrance. You gasped softly: if you thought his fingers stretched you out, it was nothing compared to the girth of his cock. Harry murmured soft encouragements into your skin as he slowly entered you, filling your pussy for the first time. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, the only sounds escaping your lips were broken whimpers. Soon, he was fully sheathed inside of you, making you the fullest you had ever been in your life.
“Harry,” you whined.
He smiled at you, lovingly brushing your hair from your face, “Feel okay, baby?”
You nodded, “So full. Move, please?”
Of course, he couldn’t say no if you asked so politely. So slowly, he rolled his hips, testing the waters. The sweet moan that spilled from your mouth was enough confirmation that you were ready. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, setting a slow yet still somehow relentless pace as he fucked you. Choked gasps and whines fell from your lips with abandon as Harry pounded you. It was absolute bliss. He looked like an angel, long hair framing his perfect face as his brow was furrowed in concentration, determined to make you feel good.
“So good, Harry,” you managed to gasp out to assuage his worries.
He smiled then, lips brushing your temple as he continued his slow, yet powerful thrusts, “Yeah? You like it?”
“Love it,” you moaned as he brushed a spot inside of you, “Right there, H.”
“Here?” he asked cheekily as he hit that spot again, turning you into a pile of mush.
Harry sped up a bit, sensing that you could take more. You moaned desperately as he continued to hit that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust. His cock filled you deliciously, and quite honestly, you didn’t know how you went without it until now. 
“Fuck, feel like I’m gonna cum soon, your pussy is just too perfect. Are you close, pretty?”
You nodded, feeling the coil in your belly once more, “So close, Harry! Please!”
“Need you to cum so I can. C’mon baby, give it to me,” he commanded. 
One of his thumbs moved between your bodies, skillfully rubbing your clit. You writhed around his as your orgasm slammed into you, completely taking your breath away. Somehow, it was even better than the first one, your vision blurring even more as you clenched around him. You vaguely heard yourself whimpering his name brokenly as he spilled into the condom, groaning as he found his release. You were brought back to reality from the feeling of his lips brushing against yours, and you responded to his kiss as best you could.
He smiled, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks, “Was that good for you, baby?”
“Absolutely perfect, Harry. Thank you,” you answered shyly, running your fingers through his curls.
You may not be going to college together anymore in a few weeks, but you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see him. Not when he treated you better than any other man possibly could.
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pancakes4two · 1 year
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sweet nothings
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preview: The rest of the world is so eager to view him like an object, assume that just because he spends his life in the public view, he’s somehow devoid of insecurities. But to you, he’s still the same Harry who cried backstage at Wembley after his voice cracked during a solo. The same shy, innocent boy who vomited backstage after his first show, terrified that he’d messed it all up.
An article criticizing Harry blows up on the internet, and it hits him harder than expected. Luckily, you’re there to help pick up the pieces.
MASTERLIST | READ MY LATEST SERIES
Industry disruptors and soul deconstructers, and smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other
And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more," to you I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.
—Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift
———
The article is released on a Friday afternoon. It's absolutely brutal—rips single every creative project Harry's ever done to shreds and leaves no endeavor unscathed. Every sentence is a biting remark, each paragraph swirled with vile accusations. It starts by criticizing his film roles, the creative direction he took in his third album, then accuses him of extorting his own fans. The author questions not only his artistry but his personhood, digs up unverified claims of rudeness and twists them into a narrative of Harry being an egotistical, ungrateful pop star. Within the hour, almost every major news station has picked the story up. It doesn’t matter how far-fetched it is. The internet takes to the author’s vitriol like wildfire, sharing it across social media platforms and online forums. Everyone wants to be the first to say they always knew something wasn’t quite right about him, that it’s about time someone knocked him off his pedestal.
It’s disgusting in every sense of the word. And it hurts even more because Harry is blissfully unaware. He’s asleep beside you now, the two of you having settled into bed to take a quick nap together three hours earlier, when the internet had yet to point their pitchforks towards him. You know he’s been overextending himself lately, still sleeping off the jet lag from tour but unwilling to slow down his life on account of tiredness. He’s always been like that, so dedicated to his music, because to him, putting less than two-hundred percent into the thing he loves most would be a waste. You can hardly remember the last time he’d slept earlier than two after coming home—even without touring commitments, he’s still found a way to keep himself busy—staying late in the studio and meeting with executives from his record label to review the marketing plan for his next album. He’s always thinking about the future, how he can reinvent himself and make sure he can stay doing what he loves for as long as possible.
It’s why he’d deserved this chance to unwind and relax in the quiet of your home. But now, he’s going to wake up to a rogue journalist completely assassinating his character, when all he’s ever wanted to do is sing and make others happy. The way you see it, it’s not the least bit fair.
You look at Harry and brush his curls away from his face gently so as to not wake him. Your phone is still turned on, the article glaring angrily against your palm as you watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful, his arm curled around your waist and his legs tangled with yours as if he can’t bear to be far away from you even in slumber. You wish everyone else could see him like this: soft and vulnerable, his lips upturned ever-so-slightly like he’s dreaming about something particularly pleasant.
The rest of the world is so eager to view him like an object, assume that just because he spends his life in the public view, he’s somehow devoid of insecurities. But to you, he’s still the same Harry who cried backstage at Wembley after his voice cracked during a solo. The same shy, innocent boy who vomited backstage after his first show, terrified that he’d messed it all up. Ten years down the road and he’s gained confidence, for sure. But when he’s not busy being this glittering, hip-wiggling rockstar who moves like he’s got the whole world in the palm of his hand, he’s just Harry. He still wrings his hands nervously before every performance, burns his tongue on hot tea that’s meant to preserve his voice. You remember what he said to you back in June before his first stadium show: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be someone who doesn’t care about what others think of them. He cares more than the article’s author and the legions of people criticizing his every move online will ever know.
You shuffle forward, closing the gap between your bodies and press a soft kiss into Harry’s forehead. You don’t expect him to stir from it, but it seems he was just about to wake up naturally before you disturbed him, so his eyes slowly open and he smiles when his vision focuses on you. You try to school your expression into something relatively normal. Unfortunately, Harry knows you too well and can immediately tell that something’s off. In any other situation, you’d be impressed by how well he can read you. Even with his mind suspended between alertness and sleep, he knows you’re upset and reaches for your hand in concern.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asks, rubbing circles into the back of your hand. He knows the repetitive motion grounds you when you’re anxious, so he continues to graze your skin with his thumb, willing you to relax.
“H—“ you start to say, but you’re cut off by the sound of Harry’s ringtone. He reaches over you to grab his phone from the nightstand, his other hand still clasped with yours. When he falls back into the mattress, you manage to get a glance at his phone screen. It’s displaying an incoming call from Jeff. Fuck.
Harry accepts the call, still ignorant to the situation. His gaze flickers over your face as the line connects—he's clearly still worried about you.
"Hey, H," Jeff says. You can hear him sigh through the phone, "have you been online recently?"
"Been asleep for the past," Harry pauses to check the time, "three hours, so that would be a no."
"Shit," Jeff says, sounding significantly less collected than he usually does. "Okay. Um, do me a favor and stay off of social media for now. I'll call you when it's all been resolved."
"What?" Harry sits up slightly at the sound of Jeff's voice, running a hand through his hair. "I'm confused. Is everything alright?"
"Listen, it's fine. I've got it all under control, just... don't go on Instagram, or Twitter, or anything."
"Jeff," Harry groans, "don't be cryptic. You're obviously dealing with something that's got to do with me, don't you think I have a right to know what's going on?"
There's silence over line for a bit, Jeff clearly ruminating over whether or not to tell Harry the truth. You chew on your lip worriedly, waiting for his voice to come through again.
"There's an article that’s been published online," Jeff starts, "and it's highly critical of you. It's circulating through social media right now, and we're trying to put a stop to it. I've got a meeting with your label's attorneys in a few minutes, but seriously H, for your own good please do not read it. We'll have it taken down by the end of the day."
"Oh," Harry blinks, clearly caught off-guard. You can't blame him for it. People don't normally wake up from naps and find out half the internet has turned against them. "Alright. That's fine. Um, call me if you need anything. Good luck."
"H, I'm serious, don't—" Jeff begins, but Harry hangs up before he can finish his sentence. He's already sat up fully in bed, back leaning against the headboard as he types away furiously on his phone. You don't try to stop him from Googling the article; he deserves to see what's been written. You just sit up next to him and silently run a hand down his arm, tracing where the fabric of his t-shirt ends and the familiar ink on his skin begins. You reach for him and let him know that he has you to lean on.
"You know what they've written isn't true," you whisper, "you know that." It’s all you can say for now.
Harry doesn't respond to that, his eyes too busy scanning through the article. He spends the next seven minutes reading every word silently, taking each criticism and judgement in. When he’s finished, Harry shuts his phone off with a click and sets it down silently on the bedside table. You avert your eyes from him, afraid that if you look up you might be able to see every morsel of hurt on his face.
In the end, Harry’s the first to break the silence.
“Who approved that?” Is what he says, his voice faltering almost imperceptibly at the end. It’s quiet enough that only someone who knows him as well as you do would be able to notice.
“H,” you respond, splaying your hand across his chest and letting his head fall gently onto your shoulder.
“None of that is real. It’s not a reflection of who you are.” You say that with conviction. He’s got the most beautiful soul, does everything with so much heart. He’s so full of love that at times you worry he might burst from it. It’s completely unfair what he’s been reduced to.
“You can only read shitty things about yourself for so long before you start to believe them,” Harry says brokenly, and his composure gives away then. He takes a trembling breath in and you feel a wetness start to form on the sleeve of your shirt. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s crying.
It’s in moments like these where his façade starts to crumble, and you see him transform back into the boy you once knew, before the whole world knew his name. Spending every day terrified that at any given moment, people wouldn’t want to listen to his voice anymore and the rug would be pulled from under his feet. Fearing that he might wake up one day and have to return to Holmes Chapel, even though he’s always been too big for the small town he grew up in.
“Love,” you say, pressing a hand to his cheek. His skin is flushed and you can see the ghost of a tear falling down the side of his face. “How is anyone meant to believe anything they’ve said is valid, when they don’t know you? I know exactly who you are, and the person they’re talking about in that article is not it.”
Harry sniffles at that, pulling himself closer to you. You see him glance at his phone, so you turn it over facedown and revert your full attention back to him.
“You’re so incredibly special,” you continue, carding your hands soothingly through his hair, “you’ve achieved an immense amount of success in the last ten years. You’ve impacted so many people, used your platform to do so much good. There’s always going to be people who want more from you, who criticize and tell you you’re not doing enough. But you are doing enough, H. Seriously. You’re only human, and it’s not your fault that others expect you to be more than that. And even so, I think you make a pretty exceptional human already. You know how many people walk up to me when I’m alone and ask me to tell you that you’ve changed their lives? There’s so many that I’d lost track of the number about seven years ago.”
Harry opens his mouth to say something in response, but you pat his face gently and give him a smile as if to say, I’m not finished yet.
“And beyond that, who cares about the industry, about what faceless people online have to say about you? At the end of the day, you’re enough. I’m not here for the Harry Styles who fills stadiums or commands attention at movie premieres. I’m here for the Harry who accidentally leaves the coffee pot on for too long because he’s too busy trying to get me to dance with him in the kitchen. For the Harry who keeps movie stubs and pebbles deep inside his pockets because he wants to keep a souvenir to remind him of every little thing we’ve done together. The Harry who’s a huge sentimental sap, who’s got the biggest heart in the world.”
You finish with a sigh, gazing at Harry earnestly and hoping that he can feel the gravity of your words.
“You’re right,” Harry smiles softly, clasping a hand around your wrist, voice slightly raspy still. “I shouldn’t let it get to my head. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? I feel like I might be a little too soft for all of it.”
“I love your softness and vulnerability,” you say, “And getting upset when people are dragging your name through the mud is perfectly normal. I can’t even begin to imagine how overwhelming it is for you. But you’ll always have me right here beside you. And trust me, I’d be going to war for you over Twitter right now if I knew Jeff wouldn’t kill me for doing so.”
Harry laughs at that, loud and open in the way that you love. “My Princess Charming,” he says, wrapping his arms around you in a crushing hug. “Forever prepared to defend my honor.”
True to his word, Jeff and Columbia’s legal team get the article taken down in record time. They say Harry’s allowed to post a response to it, if he wants, but he’s never been one to start fights over the internet so he settles on this instead.
A single picture, posted to his Instagram of your hands, your fingers intertwined like the two of you were built to be extensions of each other. The caption is simple. It reads:
I find myself running home to your sweet nothings
Outside, they’re push and shoving; you’re in the kitchen humming
All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.
He turns the comments off, not wanting to entertain any further commentary. It’s a picture meant for just the two of you, a reminder that all the noise coming from the outside means nothing when you have each other. It’s sweet. It’s nothing. And yet somehow, it’s everything you’ll ever need.
———
reblogs & feedback are highly welcomed and appreciated <3
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sleepyhollands · 10 months
Note
Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇
harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.
now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?
call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.
harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.
“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.
was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.
“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”
“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”
“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”
harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?
one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.
“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”
their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.
“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”
“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”
harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.
“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”
“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.
crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”
“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.
harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.
he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.
eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”
“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.
four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.
“any more complaints, then?”
the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.
fucking finally.
crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”
but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.
harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.
“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”
and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.
“y-y/n.”
harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”
y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”
he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.
y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.
“’s just us here, love.”
“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.
oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.
“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”
tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.
“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”
y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.
“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”
“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”
y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.
“what are you going to do with me?”
harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.
“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”
y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”
“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”
“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”
harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.
why was that?
y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.
“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”
hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”
once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.
“why are you helping me, harry?”
harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.
“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”
y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.
his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.
taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy
and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D
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jarofstyles · 11 months
Note
Best friend's dad!Harry being sucked under the table while he's on a video call or a meeting
YALL ARE FERAL but.... here. this was answered so late I'm sorry bestie lol
warning: best friend's dad h, slight exhibitionsim
Patreon
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His hand stayed threaded in her hair as his face stayed controlled and slack, the only indications of his pleasure being his slightly heavier breathing and his prick twitching in her mouth. Y/N was beyond aroused as the sound of the other people speaking in the meeting sounded in the room.
The zoom meeting had made her a bit adventurous, her bratty side coming out to play as she had crawled from the side of the desk, pushing her way underneath as he spoke, trying not to react as he felt her undo his belt. He knew exactly how this was going to pan out, and so did you. She was going to be punished afterwards and she was looking forward to each and every smack on the ass and rough thrust. He wasn't going to go easy on her. Y/N loved being a brat, though, so he should have expected it.
Her mouth took his tip in, sucking slowly and enjoying the feeling of him inside of her mouth. Y/N truly enjoyed sucking him off, pleasuring him. Part of it as probably because she shouldn't be doing it. Being in her best friend's house without her there, sitting under her best friend's fathers desk with his cock that she was far too familiar with stuffed in her mouth as he pushed her further down? it was the exact opposite of what she should be doing, but Y/N wasn't good. She loved being bad.
He pushed a bit too far, making her cough a bit around his cock. Harry raised his hand up to cover his mouth, the microphone picking up the sound and causing some attention to himself.
"I apologize. Just a cough. Continue, please." He said hoarsely, finger clicking the mute option before he glared down at the girl smirking up at him with his wet cock in her fist lazily stroking it.
"You're in so much fucking trouble as soon as I hang up this call." he growled, eyes returning back to the screen as the meeting continued. "Needy little thing. Couldn't even wait."
"No, Daddy." she pouted, kissing the head of his wet prick before spitting on it again. "I couldn't. I needed it so badly. You look too hot behind your desk, your legs were spread... you wanted me to come and suck you." she batted her lashes at him before sucking him back into her mouth, the soft sucking sounds making him exhale shakily.
It was so wrong, but so hot. The cute little thing so eager for his cock that she couldn't wait. It didn't stop him from his need to punish her after- but he felt fondness for her regardless. "Take what you want now. The meeting is almost done and then m'gonna fuck that tight little throat."
She couldn't wait.
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harrywavycurly · 1 year
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Sarah! I was just seeing if you’d be willing to do a Harry text with his gf who gave her seat up at a show to a fan or traded seats with someone because I feel like that’s something I’d do if i was dating Harry 🥰🥰
Hiii babes!! Awe I love this because same I’d be handing out pit wristbands left and right 😂 I hope you enjoy this!💖
-find all things boyfriend Harry Styles here✨
*Harry knows you like to give you seat up and you like how many people are dressed like fruits*
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eviesaurusrex · 1 year
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Can you do a meet cute blurb with Harry and a totally normal not famous girlie, I’m dying for a cute mushy blurb 🥰
Can you read minds? Because I have wanted to do something like that for the longest time 👀 and because I’m in the mood, here we go. This is set at the beginning of his NYC shows this year!
warnings: none, only fluff, one short mention of Olivia, that’s it
word counter: 2.5k
Harry Styles x University!Reader
;
It had been a busy and more than stressful day back at Parsons; her brain still smoked after hours of theoretical lectures and even more hours in one of the many photo shooting studios the private art and design school owned in their buildings. Her back hurt from the crouching position she had held since their lunch break because the current lecture slot was themed around still lives, and she hated to take photos from a chair. YN needed the constant movement of her body to really focus on her work. But now, everything the photography student wanted was to grab something halfway decent for dinner on her way home instead of ordering another round of sushi and pizza for her two roommates and herself. Well, YN would already be happy if she found something with a lot of salad and veggies without having to spend the entirety of her remaining weekly allowance on the ingredients for a self-made salad. But on the other hand, she wouldn’t have time to spend more money if she hid in her favorite photo studio right opposite the Hudson River or if she grabbed her camera to stroll around New York City in order to fill her portfolio.
The argument inside her head was on fire while her thumbs rapidly typed away on her phone to ask her two roomies if they needed dinner as well. Her feet carried YN safely around the corners and streets of Greenwich, heading straight to the perfectly stocked Target down the street because she knew how things would go if she talked herself into trying her luck at the supermarket only a block away from her home. She would be furious because the best stuff would already be gone, and YN really couldn’t allow another night with take-out.
It was as if her mother’s mouth was attached to her ear to keep the warnings on repeat.
Softly shaking her head to free herself from the sticking thoughts, YN entered Target and hummed under her breath. The young woman fixed the strap of her camera bag on her shoulder, strolling through the first few aisles, eyes wandering over the shelves in deep concentration. Her arm stretched out to reach and grab a box of cereals without hesitation, which found its way into the soft embrace of her other arm before she continued her path through the supermarket; hummed tunes still leaving her lips. It helped that the store’s radio started to play the first seconds of Late Night Talking before a cashier’s announcement interrupted the melody already. But YN knew the song by heart, so it was easy to continue the text in her mind.
With her left arm filled with the box of cereals and a pack of her favorite granola bars, the woman rounded the next corner to finally move forward to her desired section, distracted by her own thoughts and the vibration of her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. YN knew that this could never end good—and she always had been right about it; today didn’t mark an exception because the universe rarely smiled upon her.
A strong chest stopped her steps abruptly, and before YN could follow the cereals and granola bars closely in their journey downwards to the floor, a pair of equally strong hands grabbed her elbows in a steadying hold. Even before her brain could process the situation, her heart already pumped adrenaline through her veins, and her senses were heightened. YN felt the strap of the camera bag slid off her shoulder before she could pull the body part up, and so her left hand rushed to the rescue—just like another set of fingers. They met underneath the bag; her palm connected to the rough fabric while the other pressed against the back of her hand.
None of them had uttered a single word so far, barely even letting out a surprised huff of air at the feeling of impact, but now, a voice spoke up. “Everything’s okay?” And instantly, her head jerked up, and wide eyes stared into the most handsome face gracing this earth with its existence. Only moments ago, she had listened to his songs in her head, had hummed them, had mentally cursed the cashier for interrupting it—though YN knew that the poor soul didn’t have a choice—and now, the bearer of the voice, the creator of the songs, stood right in front of her, holding her elbow not to see her tumble to the ground.
Harry Styles is holding my arm between white bread and baking mix.
If her heart hadn’t worked overtime before, it damn sure did now.
“I… I am so sorry,” she pressed out after finally finding the ability to speak again and clinging to it like a drowning person on a piece of driftwood. “Oh gosh, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t daydream while getting my stuff.” Speaking of which. YN’s eyes had to peel themselves off his face with a small smile playing around his lips to locate her proudest possessions so far. She didn’t even realize that their hands still touched to support her camera and save it from destruction. But Harry Styles—she still couldn’t wrap her head around it—seemingly caught up to it again because his eyes wandered between the bag and her face. “You got it?” His voice was so gentle she probably would’ve swooned if she had heard it on YouTube while watching one of his interviews in the depths of night. But now, YN only took a deep breath—she was raised to be a decent human and had grown into a decent adult, after all—and nodded softly and pushed the strap back onto her shoulder.
She crouched down to retrieve her granola bars which had stopped right next to her sneaker-clad foot, while the man took one step to the side to grab the fallen cereal box. They both returned to their heights at the same time, and Harry grinned down at the box in his hand before showing it her. “Lucky Charms, hm?” YN wasn’t sure why, but she had to chuckle under her breath at his tone. “Thanks.” She took the box and put it back into the embrace of her arm. A basket would’ve been too easy, dumbass, mocked the voice in her head while YN still tried to grasp a hold of her current reality. “Best cereals there is if you ask me. And… well, I have to be rebellious in my freedom.” Now, the woman grinned as well, which grew in its intensity as the singer leaned his head closer to hers. “Strict parents?” YN moved her face in his direction. “A dentist as a mom,” she whispered conspiratorially, and both chuckled like teenagers after they’d shared new gossip.
“But, seriously, I’m really sorry for… this.” The student waved her hand through the air, pointing from herself to him and the surrounding environment, but Harry waved it off with a charming smile. “Would it make it better if I tell you that I would always choose this over paparazzi and unrelenting fans?” YN had to swallow dryly because suddenly, Death Valley was located in her mouth rather than back in California. But she nodded nonetheless, even though the movement held an unsure edge to it. “This is actually making me feel better about it, yeah,” she agreed, and it was true because she finally didn’t feel the urgent need to ask if he wanted her social security number—just in case. Her brain still pressed her to ask. “So… No SSN needed? No injuries and the like? I don’t want to be the reason that Harry Styles isn’t able to jump over a stage without a cast.”
His soft laugh ran through her body like a warm shiver, and his eyes, watching her face so intently, almost let her cheeks fire up in a crimson red. “No social security number needed, no. I’m fine. More than fine, actually…”
Harry’s voice lost itself somewhere after his last spoken word; his mind traveled to daydreams about bowls full of Lucky Charms during a lazy morning, and the sound of her laugh echoed in his head as he pushed himself back on track. He cleared his throat softly. “Is it okay to ask for your name, or is it too bold because we’re standing between Nature’s Own Whitewheat Enriched Bread and…—” Harry looked to his right and grabbed a baking mix out of the shelf to inspect the brand before looking back up to the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. “…—and Betty Crocker’s Red Velvet Mix?” She took a step toward him and got a hold of the package—their fingertips touched in the gentlest of ways, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest—before taking it entirely and letting it disappear between her arm and torso. “I obviously have an advantage right now, don’t I?” Her small, teasing smile drove him almost mad. “You certainly do,” Harry returned and couldn’t help but smile. “Then you certainly can ask for my name,” the woman nodded, and he raised a brow, waiting.
And when he thought her smile almost drove him mad, he wasn’t prepared for the gentle laugh escaping her now.
Damn, was all the singer could think.
“There wasn’t a question,” she teased him relentlessly, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “A funny one, aren’t we?” Both tried to hide their grins as he stretched out his ring-clad hand. “Harry Styles. With whom do I have the pleasure?” He watched her as she fixed the strap of her small bag—he suspected it to be a camera bag—before their hands met again; this time in full awareness of their doing. “YN LN—photography student and Lucky Charms votary.”
Both could feel the tingles running up their arms, letting goosebumps erupt on their skins, and finally, the blood was able to run into her cheeks and tint them rosy red. Harry only could think how adorable it made her look, even more so than before. But he couldn’t boast of being unaffected because the singer could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he felt nervousness rising up in his body. At least he didn’t get sweaty hands this easily anymore…
“I fear I might be too bold and daring now, but… Damn. Uhm…” YN raised both brows in anticipation and curiosity. She had never witnessed Harry Styles being overly shy or insecure, but well, everything in those interviews and articles could be full-on show, even though she didn’t think this man was a big fan of pretending to be someone else. So, it let him appear even more charming than before and the woman already dreaded the moment she would have to part from him forever.
After all, what could a world-famous singer want from or with her? Especially a singer who still was or wasn’t involved in a relationship with a certain someone, so… Yeah. YN was just curious about what Harry tried to ask of her—and she didn’t have to wait much longer.
“Okay, bloody fuck it,” he started, and the smaller woman looked up at him with a questioning expression, still unsure what this could be about. “I’m being daring. So, here is the question: Can I get your number? If you’re not taken—happily or unhappily—or already seeing someone, that is, of course. And only if you’re interested in men at all.”
Moments like these were life-defining, world-changing. They always started innocently, but in the midst of the attack, time and space seemed to slow down around one until they almost stopped spinning altogether. YN felt exactly like this, and it wouldn’t even surprise her if she looked around right now and found that everyone in this Target had stopped moving entirely; except for them. But she wasn’t even able to move her gaze from the man in front of her, too enthralled by his presence and asked question, which implied so much more than her mind could process right now.
YN wasn’t even sure how to begin, but her lips were faster than her brain. “What’s with…?” Her lips may have been faster, but they certainly weren’t ready to form a complete sentence. But Harry understood her anyway. “Olivia?” With a racing heart, YN only dared to nod her head yes and watched him sigh softly, fingers raking through his soft-looking mop of curls. “We haven’t made it public yet, but… we’re done. We’re done for a long time already,” he explained, and she could feel how her head nodded in understanding. She didn’t need to know more, so she held out a hand with a reappearing smile on her lips. Harry’s eyes jumped from the palm of her hand to her eyes in a matter of milliseconds. “Well?” Now, a grin started to tuck at the corner of her mouth before Harry slowly began to understand the meaning of it, and a lovely blush graced his cheeks while he got a hold of his phone, unlocked it, and had opened his contact list. The phone found its way into her hand, and YN started to type before handing it back to him.
Harry laughed under his breath at the sight of the newly saved contact before looking back into her face. “Cult Leader?” YN full-on grinned over her entire face. “I have to at least try to convert people to the Lucky Charms belief, don’t I?” And she never saved herself in a serious manner into other people’s phones if it wasn’t work- or study-related. She loved making people smile or laugh if they saw her name popping up on their screens. “Sounds more like a sect to me, but I can live with that very easily as long as I’m allowed to call you.” Chuckling, YN softly shook her head at him. “You really are a cheeky one, aren’t you? But yes, you have permission to call me. That’s what numbers are for,” she teased and took a quick glance at the watch on her wrist. “Okay, this sounds really shitty, but I slowly have to get going. I have an assignment until eight, which I still have to edit the hell out of, and the subway will be hell if I’m not getting in before five.” She loved living in Brooklyn, but the subway rides were always a hassle if YN missed the tiny but perfect slot between four and five and timed everything perfectly to outdo the tedious rush hour. But Harry—universe bless him—nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure, of course! Don’t worry. I have your number now, remember? You’re not out of this world, only blocks, a river, or a call away.”
Smiling up at him, the woman could hug the entire world, and the happiness rushing through her system still would be almost too much to bear. “‘Kay. Then… I'll probably hear from you,” she grinned, unsure of what to do now. Should she shake his hand? Hug him? Just turn around and leave this aisle of which they still were the only occupants? Harry made it easy for her: He slowly started walking backward, eyes trained unmoving on her. “You said eight?” YN nodded while watching him. “Yeah, why?” But she only got a grin as an answer before he disappeared around the next corner and left a stunned YN behind.
;
I seriously didn’t plan to write this much, but deal with it. And I’m sorry to put her name into this, but I kinda wanted the slight implication of drama because I’m thinking about using this scenario as the base for some smau :3
Hope y’all enjoyed this because I really enjoyed writing it! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3
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harrysonlylover · 2 months
Text
Insatiable*
Short smutty blurb based off this gif!
Wc: 1.2k
Warnings: degradation, unprotected sex, slightly mean dom h.
Trope: no specific AU
Masterlist
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Harry is ascending to heaven, he’s sure of that.
He must be one of the lucky ones who were chosen to be blessed in their lifetime. He can’t quite remember what good deed he did to deserve this—but he’s not letting her get away.
His ears were ringing and he felt dizzy, almost lost himself for a hot minute before remembering to keep his eyes on her. It would be a shame to close them.
His eyes couldn’t get enough of staring at her perfect body, right in front of him.
“So fucking beautiful.” He panted, his hands frantically roaming her skin.
She only responded with a soft whine, trying to keep up and ignore the cramping in her legs. She needed his cock, needed to ride him, no matter how tiring. She wanted to show him that she’s his good girl and that she can work for his cock to earn it.
It was hitting her sweet spongy spot, daring her to fall against Harry’s chest and beg him to fuck her.
But no, she bounced like a good girl on his creamy cock that was shining with a mix of their juices. She felt like their lower bodies were on fire—the heat bubbling up in her core was euphoric.
“Pretty girl showing daddy how much she loves his cock.” He praised her, moving a few hair strands from her face, before patting her head.
Damn right, she loved it.
The sound of skin slapping and her soft whines had him rolling his eyes. But again—he couldn’t keep his eyes away for too long. Her breasts were in his face, jiggling with every bounce, begging him to knead them and have a taste.
He untied her hair allowing it to cascade down her back. He adored her hair and loved giving her head scratches, but most importantly he craved pulling it while he thrusted into her from behind.
“Gonna light me up with how warm your pussy is baby.” His raspy voice wasn’t helping her neediness, after all, she was in desperate need of his cock.
“N-need it.” She managed to confess through ragged breathing. The view he had may be sinful, but hers is sending her straight to hell.
He was laid back against the headboard, a hint of a grin spread across his pretty face. His beard was still covered in her cum from when he worshipped her earlier.
His hair, so messy from the tugging yet still curly. She couldn’t help but glance down at his chest, a line of sweat trailing down to his chiseled abs that contracted under the dim light.
Not only can she feel how wet and messy they are but she can also hear it. In fact, his pelvis was already coated.
His pupils were blown and his lips were slightly parted in awe. He raked his eyes quickly from where they were connected, watching her sink on his length, to her gorgeous face and chest.
But—he can’t quite forget the setup he made. He placed a tall mirror behind them, so he can glance at it and get a good view of her back and ass that was red.
“Is that all you got princess, hmm? Thought you were my good girl.” He landed a harsh slap on her already sensitive cheeks.
“I—am.” He swore that she almost cried right there and then. He knew how uncomfortable the position must be and still—she fastened her pace.
“Shhhh baby, just take my cock. It’ll help your greedy cunt to rest.” He mocked, not forgetting to degrade her for her sigh of relief once he pushed inside—it was like her cunt needed his cock to survive.
His hands roamed her back which arched when he purposely thrusted all of a sudden. Her head rolled backward as she clenched on his swollen cock.
She was his fucking sex goddess.
He couldn’t stop exploring her back as his ears listened to her beautiful whines and whimpers. He initially mocked her, asking her if she was ovulating—but maybe her pussy is just made for his cock.
He could tell that she was starting to get tired, her forehead dropped against his as she panted and held eye contact with him. His hand rested on her ass, rubbing over the red skin.
“Poor bunny, got tired already?” She nodded quickly, slowing down her pace.
“Then I should make use of this hole, right?” His deep voice went straight to her core as she whispered ‘Please Daddy.”
He really felt like passing out from how good she felt, so warm and wet. Just for him.
He dug his heels into the mattress and placed his hands on her bruised hips before grinning at her and thrusting inside her.
“Need to do everything for you.” His thrusts were rough, and she could feel him in her stomach.
“Always have to fuck this cunt or else you’ll drool like a puppy in heat.” The degrading went through her brain, making her moan like crazy.
He was feral with his pounding, she knew that she’d be sore for days to come. But she also knew that he would kiss her pussy to ease the pain.
She already came twice, almost came for the third time from riding him but she couldn’t continue. With his current rough force, she won’t last long.
He was so raw and primal—his tongue nipped at her skin, just anywhere. She could feel his rapid heartbeats, the thickness of his swollen length pulsing inside her as he fucked her repeatedly.
And god—don’t even ask her about his naked body, how his thighs and pelvis would look right now, all wet and coated from her juices. If she wasn’t already wrecked—he’d ask her to clean it up with her tongue.
“Cum inside me.” She begged as she held his face in her hands.
“Yeah? Is that what you want? My hot load inside of your cunt?” He teased, giving her deep slow thrusts.
“Yes—Daddy.”
“Hmm, maybe that’ll tame your pussy.” He pulled her hair roughly, and the sting of her scalp combined with his creamy cock was enough to tip her over the edge.
She trembled on his length, nails digging into his skin as she moaned his name like a mantra. His orgasm followed hers in a few seconds, unable to resist the clenching and pulsing of her warm pussy.
His hot cum painted her walls white, prompting them to moan louder as they kissed. The feeling of his cum deep inside her was like nothing else.
“My baby, so good for me.” He held her against his chest, as he pressed kisses to her face.
Sweat adorned their bodies and the smell of sex filled the room. He rubbed soothing patterns on her back before whispering to remind her of the bubble bath they had to take.
She simply replied by leaving a peck on his lips and moving herself again on his sensitive cock.
An insatiable little devil. ——————————————————
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freedomfireflies · 3 months
Text
Infinite You*
Summary: The one where Harry is in an open relationship with your best friend, and maybe you have more in common than you realized.
(Based on this request! There is no third, just Harry and Reader!)
Word Count: 8.6k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Sir Kink
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You’ve never noticed how incredibly attractive Harry Styles is.
Granted, that’s because you’ve never really allowed yourself to notice how attractive he is, but you notice today because that’s why you’re here. To notice. To study. To decide if this is worth it.
He’s not making it easy on you. Walking around the apartment with his shirt off, and his sweatpants low, and his hair wet. Reaching into the refrigerator and showcasing all the stunningly hard muscles in his back. The scattered tattoos. The chunky rings on his fingers.
You swallow.
You hadn’t planned to entertain this idea. You thought it was weird—strange in more ways than one. But you agreed to talk to him, see if it was a good fit, and now…here you are.
“So,” he calls as he straightens up and turns to face you. “What do you wanna know?”
“Uh…what do you want to tell me?” you call back. You wish you were smoother.
But he only smirks. He knows you’re nervous. And he knows you’re staring, which seems to amuse him. “Well, first things first, nothing happens that you don’t want.”
He’s kind. Considerate. Hot. It makes your stomach flip.
“Okay,” you say before swallowing thickly. “Great, I mean. That’s…that’s good.”
He walks back to the living room. He’s still amused. You’re still sweating. “If you do decide you want to, we can talk about ground rules and boundaries. Decide what you’re comfortable with. Go over when and where. Things like that.”
“Okay…okay, good.”
“Yeah. And if we don’t want to, we won’t.”
“Right.”
He takes a sip of his water. He’s hiding his smile. “Do you have any questions for me?”
You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope.”
He’s unconvinced. Hesitating a moment before crouching down near your legs and glancing up at you as though to implore you and chastise you all with the same look. 
“Kitten,” he murmurs, and your heart just about beats out of your chest. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to be honest with me. That’s one of my rules. I need you to be vocal. Tell me exactly what you want and what you don’t.”
And you understand. You do. Consent isn’t a question. And you admire that he’s so adamant and unwavering. But that doesn’t mean you know what you want to say.
“I know,” you whisper, and his presence is different. Before, he was Harry: Rebecca’s boyfriend.
Now he’s Harry: the guy you might sleep with.
And it’s strange, and it’s new, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense. And you’re having quite the time trying to wrap your head around it.
But his presence is soothing. Calm. Doing more for your nerves than you initially realized. 
“It’s okay,” he whispers back, reaching a hand toward your knee. Long fingers squeezing it once. Comfort. “We’re just talking, yeah?”
You nod and force the first question out of your throat. “Do you…do you guys do this a lot?”
“No,” he answers coolly. He’s relaxed, and it helps. “Not with friends. Not really at all. Not unless it’s right. We don’t force it. If we find someone, we find someone.”
“Ah.” You nod again like you understand but you don’t. “And…you guys are both okay with this? Really?”
He smiles. Squeezes your knee again. “Yes. As long as you are.”
You smile back, and you realize your heart isn’t racing as much anymore. “Right. And…you don’t think this is weird? I mean…her pimping you out just to help me?”
He laughs, and you decide right then and there that you love the sound of his laugh. “No, I don’t,” he admits. “She’s not pimping me out. I offered.”
You lean back. “You offered?”
“She told me you weren’t having a good time with the guys you were meeting, and I said I could help.” He shrugs once. He’s so calm. “She liked the idea and told me she’d bring it to you.”
And you remember when she did. Remember how casually she’d said, “If you ever wanna use Harry…you’re more than welcome to.”
And you’d blinked at her because you couldn’t understand it at all. 
But she explained, “He and I have always been in an open relationship. And if you need a bit of…practice or just need someone to scratch that itch, I think he’d be really good. You could talk to him, see what you think?”
You were sure she was messing with you. You weren’t desperate and horny enough to go fucking her boyfriend, but she was more than all right with it. She assured you of that many times. Suggested you just talk to him and see how it made you feel. She gave you his number. You made a time to meet.
And now here you are, wondering if you really are about to go through with it.
“You…you want to help?” you ask him again, and he nods. 
“If you want me to.” Another squeeze to your knee. “Kitten, there’s no pressure here. It’s just a conversation. And if we decide no, then we won’t, and it’ll be all right.”
“But it’s…I mean, won’t it be like cheating?” Your hands begin to twist together on your lap. “What if you regret it? Or what if she regrets it?”
“We won’t. We agreed to this,” he says, and he’s still so calm. “This only works if she and I are honest. We know that. And we want to try new things, new people. Plus, she adores you. I do, too. But if you think it feels like cheating, then we don’t have to. We can end the conversation right now.”
A beat. He lets this settle.
“But if you want to try,” he continues softly, “then we’ll ease into it. We’ll go at a pace you’re comfortable. Yeah? This is all up to you.”
You feel your cheeks growing warm. He’s so good. “What if I’m not any good? And you’ve wasted your time? And I made this weird for no reason?”
He smiles, and his eyes are like meadows. Soft and serene. He straightens up just enough to brush his thumb along your chin and relax you. 
“There is no possible world where you aren’t good,” he murmurs, and somehow…you believe him. “But if you’re nervous, we’ll plan for that, too. We’ll communicate. I can help you find what makes you feel good.”
You walked into his apartment—into their apartment—sure you wouldn’t be doing it. Sure that there was no way you’d ever believe this to be a good idea.
But here you are, seriously considering it. Teetering on the edge of agreement, ready to fall into his arms.
“Are you sure you want to?” you ask him again. “Are you sure you don’t just feel bad for me?”
His brows pinch together, and he seems confused. But he’s still smiling. “Kitten, believe me. There is nothing I have ever wanted to do more. Sex is intimate and it’s tricky and it’s confusing. And you should only ever be with someone that makes you feel good. Feel safe. And if I can be that person for you, then I want to be. As long as you want me to be, too.”
And you do. You do. You aren’t sure if you even realized how badly until now.
You nod, and his touch lowers. “Okay,” you decide. “Okay, I want to.”
He does his best not to appear too excited, but you can see it there behind his grin. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You straighten your shoulders. “If…I mean, it’s just once, right? We do this, it’s over, we all go back to how it was before, and we don’t talk about it.”
Another beat. “If that’s what you want.”
“Oh, it is,” you assure him with a soft scoff. “No, I’m already gonna have a hard time looking you in the eye. And Rebecca. This is…it’s just…it’s weird.”
He drops his hand to your knee and squeezes it once more. “We don’t have to do this—”
“No, I do want to,” you assure him. “I really do, I just…it is weird. Maybe a good weird, but still weird. And I’m okay with that. I just…I want to, and we can, and then we don’t have to talk about it. Okay?”
 He nods. “Okay.”
The living room grows quiet. You aren’t sure what to do now. You aren’t sure if you’ve offended him. You don’t think he ever gets offended. He never has before. As Rebecca’s Harry.
But today he is Just Harry and Just Harry is very calm as he waits for you to continue.
You swallow again. “So…now what?”
“You tell me.” He stands, and you’re eye-level with his bare, toned stomach. 
“Uh…okay.” You shift. “Do…you wanna do it tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Do…do you wanna do it at my place?”
“Sure.”
“Do…I need to pick up…condoms?”
He smiles. “I’ve got some I’ll bring.” He nods at you. “And I’m clean, too. Got tested right after she told me.”
God, this is all so real. “Good. I did, too. Not that there was really much…chance. Since it’s been, like…three years.”
He doesn’t have a reaction to this admission. Most guys do. They think it’s weird you’ve been so long without sex. They think you’re a virgin again. They don’t want anything to do with you.
Harry has no reaction. He doesn’t seem disappointed, or relieved, or embarrassed for you, or even repulsed. 
“Good,” is all he says before running a hand through his damp curls. “What time would you like me to meet you?”
“Uh…5? No…7?” You wince. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but…if it’s just a few minutes, then—”
“A few minutes?” Now he’s amused. “Is that all you think I can last?”
Your expression drops. “I…no. No, I just…I don’t know. Most guys tap out after a bit, so I figured—”
“Kitten,” he chuckles, and the sound goes straight to your cunt. “I plan to last as long as you’ll let me.”
Your stomach drops next. “Uh…okay. Great. Then…5?”
“Five,” he repeats, and you’re thrilled. Nervous. Thrilled. “We can talk more about what we want when we get there, yeah?”
You nod. “Sure. That’s…good. That’s good.”
He smiles, and just like that…the date is set.
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4:58 comes and you’re a nervous wreck. He’s already here—you’ve just buzzed him in—and now he’s walking up your steps. And you are standing in your kitchen, pacing, tugging on your robe, and trying not to sweat. Again.
When you let him in, he’s…breathtaking. Somehow, in the few short hours since you last saw him, he got exponentially hotter. 
His hair is dry, and his curls are styled in a way that makes you want to run your hands through them. He’s wearing a shirt, but it’s oversized and soft. Easy to slip out of. His jeans are ripped but they hug his hips perfectly.
He’s…sex. He’s beautiful. He’s stunning, and you are so incredibly nervous, you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“Hi,” he smiles as he slips off his shoes and shuts your door. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No, you’re not,” you argue quickly. “You’re perfect. You’re—fuck. No, you’re…this is good.”
He laughs and lets his eyes trail down your covering. “Are you…did I interrupt something, or—”
“No. No, sorry. I, uh…I figured this would be easier,” you explain, now absentmindedly playing with the tie. “You know, I could just slip this off, and we could go.”
He hums, but you can tell he’s biting his tongue. “I see. And…is that how you’d like to proceed? You just want to rip the band-aid?”
“Um…” Shit, do you? “I don’t…know. I was kind of hoping you could tell me.”
He nods now and asks for your hand. You give it to him—rather shyly—before allowing him to lead you toward your sofa. He sits you both down and brings your attention to him.
“I will do whatever you want me to do,” he begins. “But…I’d like to know what you really want. What you fantasize about, what makes you feel good. When you’re with someone, or when you picture being with someone, what are they doing? What are you doing?”
You feel your face grow warm. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with him, and yet…he feels so safe. You trust him. You don’t mind admitting some of your weirder preferences. After all, Rebecca has told you before about what he’s like in bed. He’s…good. Very good. And into some weirder things, too. 
And maybe now you understand why she was so happy for you to ask him.
“I…I guess I like…to be taken care of,” you admit quietly, instantly glancing down at your lap to avoid his reaction.
But just as quickly, he’s slipping a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes back to his. “Yeah, Kitten?”
Your stomach wrenches. You nod.
“Tell me more,” he encourages gently. 
You fumble with your robe again. “Uh…I don’t really like…to make decisions. A lot of times. I…I feel better if I’m being told what to do.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay. I can do that. What else, baby?”
Baby. You think you might die. “Um…I think I like it rough. Or…rougher. Like…spanking, and…hair pulling, and choking…and stuff.”
He’s so entertained by your timid demeanor, and he chuckles again as he squeezes your jaw. “Is that right? D’you want me to spank you, Kitten?”
You really might die. “I…yes? I think so?”
“I need you to do more than think,” he says now, a bit firmer. “When I ask, I expect a clear answer. Is that understood?”
You nod, and you don’t even realize.
“So do you want me to spank you?”
“…yes. I do.”
“Good girl.” He brushes his thumb along your lips, and your mouth parts for him. “What else? What kind of positions do you like? Do you have any particular porn you like to watch?”
You look back down at your lap, and he smirks. “I…I don’t really watch it as much as…I read it.”
“Oh?” He dips down, looking for your attention. “You like to read it, baby? What do you like to read?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Just…just smut.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
And you’re so embarrassed, yet somehow so enamored, and you tell him before you can stop yourself. “Just…sometimes it’s rough. And…taboo. And…dangerous, I guess.”
He hums again, considering this. “Like to be naughty when you’re alone, don’t you?”
And you feel like you’re on fire, burying your face in your hands with a soft groan until he immediately tugs them back down. 
“Uh-uh,” he warns, and goosebumps dance down your skin from where he’s touching you. “What did I say, hm? None of that. Come on.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just…I’m so nervous.”
Another soft smile as he cups your cheek and scoots closer. He’s everywhere. You can smell him, you can feel him. You can practically taste him and it leaves you with this insatiable need for more.
“I know,” he says calmly. “But it’s just me, yeah? You’ve known me forever. You know I’d never want to hurt you or scare you or embarrass you. And I’d never judge you.”
“I know,” you echo. “This is just all so…real.”
He hums and seems to consider something. Then, he nods his chin at you. “I wanna try something. Would that be all right?”
You swallow. “Okay.”
“Close your eyes.”
Your lashes flutter. “What?”
“Close your eyes. Just for a minute.”
So, you do. And the living room falls eerily quiet as you wait for whatever instruction might come next. 
But it never comes. He has no instruction. He’s quiet.
And then…
He’s kissing you.
Soft lips ghost across your own. They tease and they taunt. You can’t see him, but you can feel him—can taste him. He’s kissing you, and he’s taking your mouth against his, and he’s so…he’s so.
And not being able to see him does wonders. Because you lose all inhibitions and simply take. You accept what he’s offering and you delight in doing so.
He was right.
You grow hungrier—needier. You let your hands find his shoulders and hoist yourself up onto your knees. In turn, he takes hold of your hips to keep you steady and helps bring you onto his lap. It’s like you’re one. Like you’ve rehearsed this, done it a million times. A fluid, lustful, heavy dance that ends with pants and whispers of each other’s names.
And you forget how strange this might be. You forget your hesitations and your concerns. You allow yourself to have him and to enjoy it.
And it’s perfect.
When you finally open your eyes, you feel much braver. Ready to do what he came here to do.
His cheeks are flushed. His lips are pink and slightly swollen. His pupils are dilated and he’s wearing the softest grin—like a warm sweater. 
“Please?” you whisper, and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“Where?” he asks.
“Bedroom.” It might sound like a demand, but you’ve never felt so submissive. “Please, Harry—”
He picks you up. Carries you down the hall and toward your bed. He’s been here before, seen it a hundred times when he and Rebecca would come over for movie nights or dinners. 
But it’s different now and you both know it. He treats your space with reverence. Treats you with reverence. Awe. You are…everything to him in this moment. He makes you the center of his world, the focus of his attention.
And you have to remind yourself not to fall in love with him.
He drops you onto the mattress with care but just a bit of roughness. Exactly the way you like.
He follows after you. Slots his body between your thighs and brings his lips back to yours. You kiss until you feel dizzy. It’s quick and eager and tantalizing. He moves to your neck while your fingers move for his shirt.  He nips at your throat and you fumble with the hem. And he only stops kissing you so you can slip the shirt over his head and toss it toward the floor.
You’ve seen his body before—saw it just today. But now it’s here, in your hands, in your bed, in your room. And it’s glorious. Tan, strong, firm. Covered in tattoos that make you want to drool and rippling with muscles you didn’t even know someone could have.
You want to gaze but he’s already back on your neck, sucking bruises below your ear. And then…his hand is on your thigh.
You’re tempted to freeze—to be reminded of how odd the situation—but you don’t allow yourself to succumb to the overthinking.  You enjoy the feeling of his fingers moving up toward your robe. You enjoy the way they play with the tie as if teasing you. And you enjoy the warmth of his palm as he whispers, “May I?”
You nod until you get a headache. Practically flinging the robe open for him. 
He’s gentle as he pulls it undone. Considerate as he pushes it back and reveals your naked body to him. 
And there you are. Bare before your best friend’s boyfriend and it’s…
It’s…
Not nearly as strange as it should be.
His expression softens like your nakedness hurts him. In the best way. He groans and he stares and he parts his lips as if dying to take you in his mouth.
And who are you to deny him?
You nod again, allowing him to do whatever he might like, and he’s grateful. So very grateful for you as he guides the robe away from your body, disposes of it, and dives in.
He kisses from your shoulder to your chest. From your chest to your tits. To the valley between and down your stomach. He is practiced, he is patient, he is beautiful. And he feels like heaven.
“Harry,” you nearly whimper, eyes falling shut as you settle back onto the bed.
He squeezes your hips so you know he heard you. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just lay still for me, Kitten, okay?”
He’s telling you what to do. You listen. 
He pulls your legs apart and scoots back. He wants to taste you. You can see that he wants nothing more. But he stops to look up at you. Wanting permission. Wanting to hear you say that he’s allowed and that you want it, too.
“Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, go. It’s fine.”
He rubs his thumbs along your skin to soothe you. “Can you do something for me, baby?”
Anything, anything, anything.
“Want you to grab my hair,” he tells you. “Want you to pull it, yank it, whatever. Want you to show me what feels good. Yeah?”
“Okay,” you agree breathily. “Promise.”
He grins and it’s all teeth. He returns his kisses to you. He starts at your bent knee. He goes down your inner thigh. He travels across your hip.
And finally…finally.
He’s gentle with your clit at first. A few kisses, just to prepare you. Getting a feel for your body, letting you get a feel for his mouth. For his face between your legs.
You bring a shaky hand to his hair and card your fingers through, fulfilling your vow. His hair feels good against your palm. Like butter. You gather him in your fist and tug.
His lashes flutter in response. He hums again—louder. You can feel it against your pussy and it makes your toes curl.
His hands keep you from bucking up, but he seems pleased when you try. He likes that you feel good. He likes that he gets to use his power to keep you still. 
“Har…Harry,” you whimper, and he groans again. He likes the sound of his name in your mouth. “Shit—”
He slaps your hip. A warning. “Good girls don’t use bad language. Do they?”
No. You shake your head. Your heart is racing. “Please…”
He’s happy again. Moving his mouth down your cunt until he can taste the beginnings of your arousal beginning to gather. “You’re so good for me, Kitten. You know that? Being so well behaved.”
You love his praise. You always have. Winning his approval means the world, and now, in this moment, it means that much more. You want to make him happy. To please him. To do what he wants. 
You yank on his curls and he seems to melt between your thighs. He moves back to your clit and sucks. Flicks you with his tongue and basks in the sound of your whiny cries. 
“There you go,” he says, and it’s more to himself. “I’ve got you.”
You’re shaking. Overcome by this feeling and by the impending release. It’s really going to happen. Harry is going to make you cum, and you never thought you’d see the day.
He knows you’re close. Knows you can’t fight it and he doesn’t want you to. He steadies his technique. Goes harder, faster. Gives you everything you’re asking for. You are puddy in his hands. Clay for him to mold. You are whatever he wants you to be in this moment and you’re more than all right with that.
He brings a finger to your hole and gently slips it inside. The fullness of such a large digit makes your brain turn to mush and you whimper again as you yank on his hair. He’s pleased.
“That’s what you needed, hm?” He sinks to the knuckle and starts to pump. “Just needed my fingers, yeah?”
“Yes…yes.” He’s so good. So very good.
“I know,” he hums, and it’s almost condescending. He feels bad that you’re so easy. “Take whatever I’ll give you, won’t you?”
You will. He knows it. You know it. If all he did was look at you, you’d feel grateful to be under the warmth of his gaze.
“Tell me, Kitten,” he continues, dragging his tongue up the length of your cunt. From his finger to your clit. “Do the boys in your books do it like this?”
You don’t want to think about your books at a time like this. Not when you have him. Real and here. In your bed. Your clit in his mouth.
“Do they?” he pushes and adds a second finger. How does he expect you to speak? “Hm? Is this what you dream about? When you fuck yourself in this bed? You dream about someone tasting you? Burying their face in your sweet pussy?”
You whimper. You writhe. You cling to his curls and try not to disappear.
“Speak,” he murmurs, and slaps your inner thigh.
You whine again and pant, “Yes.”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrects you, and lifts his head. He’s glistening in you. He’s beautiful. “M’not your friend here, Kitten. I’m the one making you cum. You will remember that.”
And you will. Because he is better than your books. He is considerate, and he is good, and he is making you cum before you can stop yourself. 
Your back arches from the bed. Your chest caves in on itself. Your legs squeeze the sides of his head and he fucking loves it.
He releases your hips so he can grab onto your thighs and press them hard to his cheeks. He wants to suffocate in you. You want to let him.
“Harry—” you gasp. He slaps your leg. “Sir…I…”
You can’t say anything else. He knows. It’s okay. He rides you through. Takes every drop on his tongue. Swallows you down. Feeds on you. Indulges in you. 
Today you are his.
And still, he’s not through. He begins again. He knows you’re sensitive and he knows it won’t be long before you give him another.
He adds a third finger and begins to thrust inside your quivering cunt. He says, “How many times do they make their girls cum?”
You glance down. “What?”
“Your books. Your fantasies. Your dirty smut that gets you off. How many times do they make the girl cum?”
You think. You can’t think. “I…I don’t know—”
“You do,” he argues and nips at your pussy. “Because I bet you wish it was more. I bet you make yourself cum for every time they do. I bet you fuck yourself while you read and pretend that it’s you.”
He’s right. You hate that he’s right. You hate that it’s so obvious.
“How many?” he repeats. “Once? Twice? Do they give up after that? Are they as good as you want them to be?”
You can’t hear him through the pounding in your ear. The second one is close. You’re shaking, trembling, dying. It’s already unraveling. You’re too far gone.
He pumps you through your second and carries right on to your third. “Shame you never called me. Shame you never read your little books and thought to ask me for help. Should’ve known I would have.”
Your cheeks are growing warm again. You’re embarrassed and sensitive to the touch. 
He notices. “You thought about it, didn’t you?” he realizes aloud, and he sounds almost proud. “Thought about me when you touched yourself.”
You shake your head but it’s a lie. You both know it.
“You did,” he repeats, and he’s smirking. “Did you picture me when you read? Picture me in your dirty little taboo fantasy? D’you picture my cock? My hands? My mouth?”
You did, and you’re embarrassed, and he loves it.
“Did I make you cum?” he whispers, and slips a fourth finger inside. “Hm? Did I have you coming all over your pretty hand? All over your sheets? Or did you use a toy, baby?”
You squirm. You try to fight him, try to fight this orgasm, try to fight what he’s making you remember. But it’s useless. 
“How many times did I make you cum?” he nearly purrs, and it’s over. It’s all over. You are powerless to him, and you embrace it. “How many times did you cum for me while you were reading your naughty little books—”
You don’t hear the rest. You’re unraveling for the third time before he can find his answer. But that’s more than all right because this was the answer he really wanted, anyway. 
He strokes your skin as you come down. Then, he pulls his fingers out, takes them in his mouth, and swallows you. Waiting until you’ve caught your breath before he’s crawling back up your body and slipping his tongue against yours.
He kisses you, and you taste everything. Him, you, and five years of memories shared between you. Rebecca slowly starts to dissolve from the picture and now it’s just the two of you. In every flashback, every moment. Maybe it was always him and you.
You reach for his belt. You want his jeans off. You want your hands around his cock. You want to hold him, ride him, gag on him. You’re impatient and he’s amused and it feels as though time is moving far too slow.
“Easy,” he tuts, but he kisses you again. “M’gonna give you my cock, Kitten, just have to wait for me, yeah?”
You pout. He kisses it away. “Can’t wait, Sir. Need it.”
Sir makes him grin, and this seems to work in your favor. “You can’t, hm? Well, what if I wanna take my time?”
You groan and you whimper and you fling your arms around his neck to pull him close and plead with him. “Please,” you whisper, kissing along his neck, and his skin tastes divine. “Please fuck me, Sir. I need it. Might die.”
He chuckles, and the vibration of his chest makes your insides twitch. “I bet. S’been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Three years, and while you know sex isn’t necessary to survive…now that you’re here…you feel rather insatiable. 
Because it’s not the fact that you haven’t had sex in three years that’s making you anxious. It’s the fact that you haven’t had sex with him. And you need to. You need him to scratch this itch that only he can scratch. And you need him to do it now.
“Are you gonna let me take care of you?” he asks, and you want to cry. He’s so good. “Can I do that, Kitten? Can I make it better?”
You nod, and you’re dizzy, and you’re dripping onto your sheets below. You feel so empty without him.
He laughs again and it’s heaven. “Good girl. Take off my jeans, okay?”
You do, and you do it well. They’re off in under thirty-five seconds and on the floor, next to your robe and his shirt. Your clothes look good together. It makes you smile.
He nods at his boxers, the only thing left between you. “Take ‘em off.”
You do. You roll the dark band down his gorgeously strong thighs and help him slip out of them before they’re joining the collection on the ground.
He’s got a large tattoo on his left leg that’s just begging to be licked and muscles in his calves that make your pussy clench.  
You stare at him and you probably drool and he’s laughing again.
He slips his finger under your chin once more and lifts your head until your eyes meet. He is a meadow. Gentle and calm. “Do you want a taste, Kitten?”
More nodding, more drooling. He kneels and you scoot closer, grasping onto his thighs to brace yourself as you stare at him.
He’s hard, and big, and leaking in a way that makes your throat go dry. He is better than you wanted him to be and he is better than the books and he is real. 
You dip down and you allow your lips to graze his tip. He smiles and puts a hand on your head to guide you. Comfort you. Control you in just the right way.
You extend your tongue and drag it up the side. He tastes good. More so than you expected. It’s like candy, and you lick and lick until you needily begin to take him into your mouth. 
He squeezes your scalp lightly. Easy. You’re going fast and he wants to go slow. He wants you to enjoy yourself. 
But you are. How could you not? He’s heavy in your mouth and you never thought you’d enjoy sucking someone’s cock as much as you do his. Maybe it’s true what they say. Maybe you really do get pleasure out of pleasing him.
You take more. As much as you can bear. Your eyes flutter shut. You’re tempted to gag but you don’t, not yet. You don’t want him to think you can’t take him. You want to be good. As good as he was for you.
He slips his fingers into your roots and tugs. “Baby,” he warns softly. “Don’t push yourself—”
You keep going. You groan around him and he curses at the feel of your throat. You go further. Until your eyes are screwing shut and your breathing becomes labored.
Suddenly, he’s yanking on you. Pulling you off as a string of saliva drips from his cock to your mouth.
“Hey,” he grunts, and he looks at you. You want to shrink. “I told you to go easy, yeah? You have nothing to prove to me, Kitten. This is not about doing something you think I need you to do. I want you to do it because you want to do it. It’s not a competition. I’m not gonna be disappointed if you can’t take much of me.”
You frown. “I know, but…I want to. I really do want to. I just…you’re big, Ha—Sir. You’re so big.”
You’re feeding his ego (but you’re also telling the truth) and he exhales a soft laugh. “I know,” he repeats. “But forcing yourself will only hurt. Besides, this is about you, yeah?”
Your expression falls. Another reminder that he’s only here as a service. To get you off and then get out. He won’t be spending the night, and he won’t be calling you tomorrow to set up the next time, and he won’t be promising that he’ll train your throat open to take his cock. 
You nod. You concede. Bring your hands to your lap and pull yourself away.
Now he’s frowning. He smooths his palm down the back of your neck and tugs you to him. He looks at you and he’s looking for what you’re really thinking. Something shifted. He wants to know what. Why.
“This is about you,” he says again, and you wish he’d stop. “Believe me, I’d be happy to have you gag on me, but that’s not what we’re doing tonight, okay? Not tonight.”
And it’s not a promise of next time. You know that. But not tonight implies something more open-ended than before and you finally smile. “Okay.”
He sweeps his thumb along your throat. “Can I fuck you now, baby?”
“God, yes,” you breathe, and nearly drag him on top of you. 
He smiles again and you feel whole. The dance continues. He kisses you and situates himself between your thighs, and you are so very ready. 
“Shit, wait, hold on,” he says, and you almost burst into tears. “I need to grab the condoms—”
“No,” you nearly shout, and his brow raises. “No, I…we’re both clean. And I’m on the pill. Why…why don’t we just…not? Maybe?”
It’s selfish, you know it’s selfish. But you want to feel him. You don’t want something keeping him from you and you want to know that he actually fucked you. 
You like condoms. You prefer condoms. But not now. Not with him. You have to know he really did this. You need to feel him in your pussy for years to come.
He looks at you. “You’re on the pill?” He doesn’t answer your question.
“Yeah. I take ‘em for cramps and regulation and stuff.” You wince. Talking about cramps is not sexy. “The point is…if you want…I mean, I want, but if you want…?”
He thinks about this. Brushes your hip with his thumb. Thinks. “I don’t mind, but only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” you exhale. “God, I’m sure. Honestly. As long as you are. And…and Rebecca. I don’t know if you guys have a rule…or anything.”
You wince again. You don’t want to bring up Rebecca, either. But you know you have to. You know she’s your friend, and she’s Harry’s partner, and this has to be asked. It has to be considered.
So, he considers it. “Most of the time we have a rule, yeah. For safety and peace of mind. But that’s when it’s other people. She doesn’t mind if we do or don’t. She said it’s up to me.”
“You talked about it?” 
“Yeah.” Of course they did. Honesty. “When I was grabbing the condoms. I asked if you had a preference, she said she didn’t think so. Said we could just go without if we wanted. As long as I got tested after.”
“Right.” You almost feel weird knowing they talked about you. But what did you expect? “And…do you want to?”
Another beat. He looks at you. Really looks at you. “I want to fuck you. I want to feel you. I think we’ve taken all of the right steps and I feel comfortable going without. As long as you do.”
“I do,” you assure him again. “I really, really do.”
He smiles. “Good.” He drags his tip down your cunt, gathering your arousal. “Then I wanna start like this. Wanna see your face. Make sure you’re doing all right.”
You nod quickly.
 “And I wanna see you when you cum on my cock for the first time,” he whispers huskily before steadying himself above you.
You are giddy. He is everything. He is so much better than your books and he is lining himself up with you and he is big, and ready, and beautiful.
He kisses you again. “Deep breath, okay? Try to relax. Don’t want to hurt you.”
You do breathe. You do try to relax. You let your mind wander to a world where he does this to you every night. Where your pussy happily accepts him and knows him and molds to him.
He pushes in. You reel.
Still, he is good, and gentle, and kind. He kisses you more. He distracts you, even though he doesn’t need to. You pretend that he’s imagining a world with you, too.
He sinks in further, and life is perfect. Your nails claw at his back—at the many muscles that tense beneath your touch. Your leg hooks to his hip, your heel against his ass. You draw him in. You plead with him for more. You say his name, you moan, you shiver.
“Shh,” he coos, and he wraps his hand around your throat. He remembers what you like, and he squeezes gently. “Let me do this, don’t rush me.”
You whimper, “Sir,” and he kisses you again. You are addicted to his tongue.
He finally buries himself all the way, hips against yours, chests flush together. He’s heavy and he’s warm. Like a weighted blanket and you feel so safe. You’ve missed the feeling of another body on top of you. Of that connection and intimacy. That protection. It’s even better when it’s him.
You cling to him and ask every star in the sky not to take him from you. “Please move, Sir.”
He draws back. He begins to fuck you, and he’s so big. He stretches you, claims you. Owns you, truly. He sucks your tit into his mouth and you melt between his lips. He nips, and pulls, and groans. And you hate everyone he’s ever been with before. You wish you were his only. 
He starts going faster. But not too fast. He wants to make you anxious for it. He wants you to beg. Wants you to unravel yourself from need alone. And you’re so close to doing just that.
“Good girl,” he praises, and your heart cracks down the middle. “Taking me so well. Is this what you needed, Kitten? Needed someone to fuck this tight little pussy until you felt better?”
You nod and you whimper again. He’s fucking you back to life. What happens when he leaves?
You shake the thought free and focus on now. His body feels good against yours. His teeth are perfect on your throat. His curls are soft and his skin is tan and his cock is fucking magic.
He’s relentless. Thick. Splitting you open and drawing you in. Your tits bounce from the thrusts and your back arches from the bed and his face is delicious. 
He’s watching you closely, just like he said. He’s studying your reactions, your noises, your gasps for air and mercy. He wants to know he’s giving you what you wanted. He wants to know he’s doing it right.
And of course he is. He has to know that. He has to assume he’s better than the average man. You wonder if he learned this from Rebecca or someone else. You wonder what would happen if you were his. Could you be okay with him sleeping with other people? Could you accept that he still wants you? 
You close your eyes and scrunch your nose. You’re doing it again. You’re letting yourself imagine a world you can’t have. You aren’t being present; you aren’t enjoying what you’re being given now. 
Suddenly, his hand is back on your throat. He’s squeezing, but pointedly. Asking for your attention.
“Hey,” he murmurs, just as stern as before. You look up. “What is this? What is this face for, what’s wrong?”
You blink and then realize your expression is still bunched. You relax. “Nothing, sorry.”
“Hey.” Firm. Unrelenting. He stops thrusting and you want to die.  “Baby, you can’t do that. I told you I need communication, I need honesty. If I’m hurting you, you have to tell me—”
“No,” you insist quickly. You take hold of his shoulders and then his hips as though to get him to continue. “No, that’s not it. I promise. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t move. “Then what was the face for? What’s wrong?”
You huff. Sigh. Squeeze his waist. “Nothing, I promise. I was just…thinking about something I shouldn’t. And I wanted to stop.”
“Stop fucking? Or stop thinking?”
“Thinking. I wanted to be here. With you.”
He relaxes now and you feel his cock twitch. “Kitten, I want you here with me, too. If you’re not, we can stop for a while—”
“No,” you groan. You feel like a child about to throw a temper tantrum. “No, I swear. I am here. I am. And if you stop, then I won’t be, and it might kill me.”
He sighs now. It’s heavy. “Nobody else exists outside of this room except you and me, yeah? Just us.”
You melt. “Yeah…”
He kisses you. “I want you here with me, baby,” he exhales, and it’s like he’s breathing the sentiment into your lungs. “I need you here. With me. On my cock. Don’t want you to think about anybody else. It’s just us.”
You nod again, and you claw at him, and you beg him to keep going. He does. It fixes everything.
When your fourth hits you, you see the stars. Even if they aren’t in your favor, they are bright, and warm, and they carry you through to the other side.
And once you’ve caught your breath, Harry pulls out. 
You’re tempted to wither, to cry, to beg him to stay but he’s already flipping you around onto your stomach and driving himself back in.
Now you understand. And you’re ecstatic. He’s rough. Pulling your hair, forcing your cheek to the bed, slapping his palm against your ass.
“Give me another,” he demands, and he sounds angry, but he’s not. He’s ready. “Just like you would for your little book boys. You fucking cum for me, right now. Let me feel you. Let me cum with you.”
He slams into you and it’s so full. You could cum for a lifetime and still never feel finished.
He spanks you again. Grips your hair. Forces your nose into the duvet until it’s hard to breathe. It’s rough. Deep. And still…he’s caring for you. You know he’s making sure he isn’t pushing too far. Just enough. You love it.
“What a sweet little pussy,” he seethes, but it’s thick with lust. “Can’t believe you’ve fucking kept this from me for five years. All this time and you were right here.”
You’re glad he can’t see you now. He might be afraid of how happy that sentence makes you.
“S’all I’m gonna think about,” he says. “Tasting you. Fucking you. Feeling you. Gonna dream of this pretty pussy every goddamn night.”
You moan. You hope he does. Hope he dreams of it when he’s lying next to her. 
No. You scrunch your nose. You reject it. You ignore it.
He spanks you. Kneads your ass in his hand, then spanks you again. “Gotta promise me something, Kitten. Yeah? Gotta promise me that you’re gonna think of me, too.”
And you are. Of course you are. You always do. “Yes…yes, Sir. I promise.”
Another slap and squeeze to your scalp. “Good fucking girl. Now cum. Fucking cum for me, baby.”
You want to. But not before he does. You need to feel him, too, and you hold off as best you can until you feel him twitch.
“Kitten,” he says, and you’re ready. “Want you to make me another promise, yeah? Want you to take my cum…and keep it. Keep it in your little pussy, even after I leave. Okay?”
You nod quickly. You will. Of course you will. God, how could he think you wouldn’t?
Your promise tips him over, and he cums, and he’s loud, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
You wish you could see him. It’s so cruel that you can’t, and you try to glance back to catch even a glimpse. You see his brows scrunch together, see his mouth drop open, see his cheeks flush from the force.
And seeing him tips you over. You cum together, a mess of moans, and pants, and nicknames. Sweaty bodies connecting as he collapses on top of you, further burying you into the mattress. And it’s so hot and you can’t breathe, but you have never felt more alive. This moment is infinite. He is infinite, and you are infinite with him.
“Shit,” he says, and you have to agree. “You’re so good, baby. So fucking good. Can’t believe you’ve kept that from me.”
It’s the second time he’s said it. You wonder if he realizes. “I didn’t do anything, this was all you.”
He snorts. “Kitten, I had nothing to do with how fucking good that was. Believe me. You…are fucking perfect. Every cute little flutter of your cunt. Your tits. Those big eyes…”
The room falls silent. You imagine he wants to turn you around and see you, but he doesn’t. He’s keeping himself inside you for as long as he can. 
“Thank you,” you whisper, and the sentiment doesn’t feel strong enough. “For…for doing that, I mean. And…for not making it weird. I know I was probably kind of…rusty and nervous, and I just—”
“No.” He shakes his head. Squeezes your hip. Kisses your bare back until you fall silent. “You are perfect. Okay? That was perfect. I really, really enjoyed it.”
You smile. You are happy and miserable all in the same moment. “Me, too.”
You want to ask if you’ll be doing it again. You want to pretend that he’s not gonna leave you and go back to her. That he’s not Rebecca’s Harry or Just Harry.
That he’s Your Harry.
But all good things must come to an end. He will leave. And you will let him.
“Now what?” you dare to ask.
A small beat. “We don’t have to talk about it after I leave…if that’s what you still want,” he says next, and your chest feels heavy. “I just want to make sure you’re all right before I do. That you pee, and you drink your water, and you take it easy. I know I went kind of hard on you.”
“But it was good,” you tell him, and you grin at the memory. It feels so far away. “Really good. Everything I wanted.”
“Yeah?” He kisses you more. The space between your shoulders. Your neck. Your cheek. “Any notes?”
You laugh. “No notes. God, no. You’re like a sex god.”
“Better than your books?”
“So much fucking better.”
“Hm.” More kisses. “Don’t tell me that. I’ll get a big head.”
“You already have one,” you attempt to tease, and he laughs, too. “Both of them.”
The room fills with giggles until you both fall silent again. He doesn’t leave. You don’t make him.
“Do we…tell Rebecca?” you ask. “Like…the details and things?”
“Only if you want to.” He stops kissing you now but rests his cheek on your head. “She doesn’t expect us to, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
You nod. You like Rebecca. You can’t imagine you’d be so relaxed if you were in her position. “And this…works for you guys? The open relationship?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. Nods. “We have a lot of love and trust and I think that’s why. It’s what we both want.”
You resist the urge to scrunch your nose. You’re happy for him. For both of them, you are. This really is what’s best and you’re so glad they have each other. And you’re glad that they’re both willing to explore it with you and still keep you in their lives.
“Is it just sex?” you ask next, despite your better judgment. “Or…like, what if you wanted to date someone else? Or is that not what it means?”
“We can date around if we want. We haven’t in a while, just because we can’t seem to find people we like enough to keep around.” He smirks. “But we could. It’s not as rigid as it sounds.”
He finally pulls out and you want to cry. You feel cold and empty.
However, he’s quick to scoop the dribbling cum from your pussy and push it back in. Just for a little while longer. 
You close your legs and smile. “I don’t think it’s rigid as long as it’s what you want.”
He smiles back. “It is.”
You shift now. You feel nervous again. “So…then, I guess by the rules and things…it wouldn’t be…totally weird to see if you wanted to do it again? Not that we have to—we could, I mean. Or not, if you don’t want. Or maybe I should ask her. Or you can. Or…actually, it’s dumb, never mind. I don’t know why I thought—”
He grabs your chin. Presses his thumb to your lips to quiet you. “Kitten, breathe.”
You do.
“We can do it again,” he says, and you have never felt so happy. You feel as though you were just set on fire. Your skin is tingling, and your insides are twisting, and your pussy is clenching. “We don’t have to ask permission. We’re adults. We can do whatever we’d like. That’s the point of an open relationship.”
You nod. You want to kiss him. “Okay. Are you…I mean, do you want to? We don’t have to just because I do, honestly. I just…we both liked it, so I thought maybe we’d want to. Unless it wasn’t really that good for you, which I would understand—”
“Kitten.”
You stop. You breathe.
He chuckles. “I would love to fuck you again. And again. And again. As many times as you’ll let me.”
You’re practically shaking. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He grins. He can tell how giddy you are. “What are you doing next Friday?”
“I am doing whatever you want me to.”
The expression that splits his face is like sunshine. He loves this answer, and he loves your pussy, and perhaps one day…he’ll love you, too.
“Good fucking girl,” he breathes, and surges forward to kiss you.
And maybe…this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
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Next Part:
~ Insatiable You*
~ Full Infinite You Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs
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harrysfolklore · 7 months
Note
Can you write a blurb where y/n is pregnant and she and harry are at a family party or something and everyone keeps touching her bump and she’s very uncomfortable, and harry comforts her? Xx
as usual, i hated the ending for this but i hope you guys like it 🥲 let me know your thoughts and thanks for the request <33
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
GIF BY @whatsthereinthename
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The world was going crazy over Harry Styles becoming a dad.
And the fact that the picture he posted on his Instagram to announce it gathered over 30m likes, making it the 10th most liked picture on the platform’s history proved it.
However, his millions of fans all over the world weren’t the only ones feeling absolutely ecstatic over his wife being pregnant with his first child, his family was also losing their minds over the news.
The Styles family loved YN to pieces, and not only Harry’s nuclear family consisting of his mom and sister, his extended family including aunts, uncles, cousins and even family friends had grown to love the girl over the years. So when Anne called up to invite them over for one of her famous get togethers, they were over the moon because they knew the couple would be there and they would catch a glimpse of a pregnant YN for the first time.
“You ready, love?” Harry said as he entered their shared bathroom where his wife was applying the finishing touches to her makeup.
“I am, just need to spray on some perfume and I’m good to go.” She said as she turned around to face her husband, and when Harry got a proper look at her his breath almost hitched in his throat.
She looked absolutely breathtaking with her navy blue sundress and the brand new bump that adorned her body.
Harry swore that he had never seen someone more beautiful.
“Look at you, darling.” Harry simply said, putting a hand on his chin, looking at her almost in disbelief.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” YN joked for a moment, battling her eyelashes at him.
“No, you’re just the most gorgeous woman on this earth.”
“And you’re a total sap, let’s go, I don’t want us to be late.”
The car ride to Anne’s house was nice, their favorite soft tunes and small talk filled the air until they got there, and before getting off the car, Harry took a moment to reassurance his wife about the evening.
“If you feel uncomfortable or want to rest let me know immediately, okay? I don’t want you or baby to be overwhelmed.”
She pecked his lips softly before speaking, “We’ll be good, don’t worry.”
They got off the car and we’re instantly met with Anne waiting for them by the door, a fond smile on her face at the sight of two of her favorite people.
“I’m so happy you made it,” she said as he hugged Harry first, “Darling! You’re absolutely glowing!” she hugged her daughter-in-law, gently caressing her bump.
“Thank you, Anne. It’s so good to see you.”
The three of them headed to the backyard where the rest of the guests were mingling, and once YN stepped foot all eyes were on her, complimenting how beautiful her bump looked.
“YN darling! Long time no see!” one of Harry’s aunts approached her, hugging her before placing a hand on her bump.
At this, she immediately tensed, not used to anyone aside from Harry touching her bump.
Harry noticed it and he placed a hand on her back protectively before speaking, “We’re going to sit down for a bit, the missus is a bit tired from the drive here.”
Once they were seated next to Gemma and her boyfriend Michal, YN squeezed Harry’s leg gently and gave him a soft smile, as a way to thank him for his previous action.
The evening went on smoothly, they ate Anne’s delicious food and engaged with family they haven’t seen in a while.
However, every time someone came close to YN, trying to touch her bump or just invade her personal space, she grew more and more uncomfortable.
“Your bump is getting so big!”
“Is the baby kicking yet?”
“I miss having a baby bump.”
Were some of the comments YN had heard all day long, and by the time another of Harry’s aunts tried to approach her, she had enough and quickly exited the backyard before she could reach her.
“Love? Are you okay? Saw you running away back there.”
Harry’s voice made its way to her ears, she was leaning on the kitchen counter, her back facing him.
“I’m okay, just needed a breather.” She said, her eyes closed and still not facing him.
“Hey,” Harry slowly approached her, standing next to her but not touching her, “Can you look at me please?”
YN slowly turned around, and once Harry saw her watery eyes with tears threatening to come out, he pulled her to his chest.
“What’s going on, love? What made you upset?”
YN took a few breaths before speaking, “I just, I’m not used to anyone but you touching my bump and being close to me, and your aunts have been all over me all evening and I guess I got overwhelmed,” she sniffed before continuing, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude to your family but these hormones are acting up.”
“It’s okay love, nothing to apologize for,” he pecked her forehead softly, “Do you want to get out of here, we can leave now.”
“No, we don’t have to leave,” YN interrupted him, “Can you just, stay next to me when we go out there? I feel safer when you’re close.”
Harry almost melted at her words, and she grabbed her chin and kissed her lips softly.
“Of course, my love. I’ll always make sure you and baby feel safe and comfortable.”
And with a final shared kiss, they headed out again, Harry staying by YN’s side the entire time, making sure she and his baby were always safe.
taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry
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justlemmeadoreyou · 12 days
Text
Secret Little Rendezvous-5
Summary: The fifth and last part to Secret Little Rendezvous
Words: 3.5k+
Warnings: Angst! There's a lot of angst, fighting and cursing in this one. Hints of smut too, mentions toxic relationship. Alludes to smut.
(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)
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Dylan and your relationship was blossoming. It was going well.
Given, you two hadn’t slept together. Yet.
You didn’t want to get physical so early. It had been 2 weeks or so, and the most physical affection was kisses and neck bites, and the one time you had sucked him off.
It was your idea. He was pent-up and frustrated because he was working hard on a project, and most of it was rejected by the client at a glance. That made you so angry. That person didn’t even bother to see his viewpoint, or why he did it the way he did. 
So, you invited him back to your house, right after work. Made him his favorite: macaroni and cheese.
“Hi,” he had greeted you sweetly, even though he had had a shit day. You loved that about him.
“Hi, how was your day?” you asked, even though you already knew how it was. Maybe he would want to talk about it?
“Eh, it was shit. Got rejected on the project proposal I had been working on for the past week or so, and the client threw my report in the dustbin”
“No! Why would he do that?!” you exclaimed. Saying no was one thing. But tossing reports that took so long to prepare right into the trash was another.
“I know. He’s an asshole. How are you, though?”
You smiled.
“I’m good–I had a nice day. The code I was reviewing today was actually good, and I didn’t have to revert. “
“That’s a relief. I hate it when we have to check the whole thing all over again and 
Check the security and data compromises.”
“I know, right? Anyway, go and change. I made you dinner”
His eyes lit up when you said that, and he walked over to you with his arms extended in front of him. He came over to you and hugged you, his face resting perfectly on the alcove of your neck. 
“You’re the best”
“Alright, big guy. I’ll get the food on the plate. Go and get changed”
He eventually let go of you, but not without pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
He came back a few minutes later, face fresh and looking good. He sat back and relaxed, while you brought him the plate and sat on the table adjacent to his.
He took a spoonful of the dish, the yummy smell of cheesy goodness hitting him. As he tasted it, a grin spread across his face.
"Wow," he said, nodding approvingly. "This is amazing. You really did a great job, Y/n."
You felt proud hearing his praise, a warm feeling spreading inside. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it," you said, feeling a bit shy. "It's just a simple recipe, but I'm happy it turned out well."
He kept eating, and you sat across from him, enjoying the moment. It was nice, just being together and sharing a meal. And as you watched him, you couldn't help but feel grateful for these simple, happy times.
After dinner, he wiped his mouth and sat back, his stomach full and he looked happier than before.
“That was good”
“Mhmm, you know, this macaroni wasn’t the only delicious-looking thing tonight”
As soon as you said that, his heartbeat rose, and his mouth fell open. He dropped the napkin on the table and looked at you with wide eyes.
“What–what do you–what do you mean?” he asked, but before he could say anything else, you were already sinking down to your knees in front of him. You smirked, pushing his thighs apart and settling down comfortably.
His hands came to rest on your shoulders softly, asking you if you really wanted to.
“You–you don’t have to do this, babe. I’m perfectly fine going to bed and sleeping, or–or if you want me to leave, I can–I can leave too, you know”
You shook your head, taking his hands from your shoulders and holding them in yours, pressing a kiss to the top of each, “Yeah, I’m sure. And it’s good. I want you to relax. Let some of that tension and frustration go away”
He nodded, but he was still unsure.
But you made all of that go away. Starting slow, you took your time with him, built the pleasure and tension perfectly, licking his cock and fondling his balls, sucking at the tip, till he was cuming inside your mouth.
“You–you don’t have to fuck–oh, you don’t have to swallow–”
He muttered, but you had already done it, smirking up at him as he picked you up and kissed you,wrapping his arms around your waist. He apologized later for not returning the favor because he was so tired. You brushed it off, knowing it wasn’t a give-and-take relationship like you had with Harry.
Harry.
Oh.
You hadn’t thought about him in a while. Sure, you would see him in the office every couple of days, but he ensured no contact between you two. It was good…for the most part.
Olivia acted like you were a witch. She frowned and scowled whenever you were nearby, and she really needed to grow up. She had her ego inflated over the fact that Harry had chosen her instead of you.
Only if she knew how much of a lie it was.
.  .  .
Dylan was up for a promotion.
He had been in line for it too when you had gotten it. He was planning on leaving the company after that, because there would be no open positions for a while. So, he had submitted an application, stating that if he didn't get the promotion, he would leave the company. And given that he was a hardworking employee, who had shown excellent growth in the 4 years he had been in the company, there was no way he wouldn’t get it.
He gave the news to you two days later when he had taken you to dinner at a restaurant.
“Sooo I’ve–I’ve been wanting to talk about something” he said, after you had been talking about each other’s families for a while.
“Yeah, sure. What’s up”
“I–I got the promotion, Y/n.”
“Oh my god! That’s amazing! Come on, give me a hug” you exclaimed, so happy for him. You got up immediately and hugged him, earning a few unwat\nted glances from fellow diners.
“Well, that was awkward” he said after, and you nodded.
The conversation had stopped after that, and you could sense the shift in his demeanor. He wanted to tell you something else too.
“Dylan, what’s wrong?” you asked, your heart throbbing erratically, sensing something wrong.
He sighed, his gaze troubled. "Y/N, I've been offered the promotion, but...it means I have to relocate."
Your heart sank at his words, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. "Relocate? But what about us?"
Dylan hesitated, his expression pained. "I don't know what to do, Y/N. I want this promotion, but I also don't want to lose you."
Tears pooled in your eyes, because you knew where this was headed.
“You–you wanna break up with me?”
Your voice was just above a whisper, and you could see by the look on his face that the answer was yes.
“I don’t know! I want this promotion, and–and this is the only way I can get it. And if I leave the company, I would have to start in the exact position I want to get out from”
You sighed, the gravity of the situation finally settling in.
“But–but, we can–we can go long-distance…”
The words trailed off in your mouth. Long distance was a big thing, and you had been dating for about a month and a half. You two hadn’t been physically involved, and that may have been one of the reasons he wasn’t too reluctant to break up, or think of other options.
“Is–is this about us not having sex? It’s easier for you to break up because we aren’t that close yet. Because we haven’t fucked yet”
He dropped the spoon, and brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes with it.
“No, it’s not about that. I mean, we haven’t been dating for so long, and I–I don’t think our relationship could stand that. It’s a big commitment. And we won’t be able to see each other for months, because I would be working at the same level as you. Work can get hectic, and Y/n, you know that too, right?”
You nodded, staring at the tablecloth.
“And–and I often resort to drinking every three days or so, and God forbid I do something wrong while I’m out at a club, because I don’t have you by my side. I don’t want to call you one morning, telling you that I was unfaithful”
His words sank in, and you sighed. He was right. Your relationship wasn’t that strong to take the toll of long distance, and if one of you made a drunk mistake, the other would be crushed.
With a heavy sigh, you finally spoke up. "I...I guess you're right, Dylan. Maybe it's for the best if we end things now, before it gets too complicated."
Dylan reached out, taking your hand in his, his expression filled with sadness. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you."
You gave him a small, sad smile, squeezing his hand gently. "I know, Dylan. And I'm sorry too."
.  .  .
He left a month later, and you were left with a broken heart.
Why did everyone leave?
Were you just that unlovable that God saved everyone from you?
You found solace in throwing yourself into work, often staying late into the night to distract yourself from those troubling thoughts. While the temptation to drown your sorrows in alcohol was present, you knew it would only serve to bury those long-buried emotions deeper within you.
Little did you know, there was one other employee working late that night.
He knocked at your door, and it was almost 10:00 pm. You were planning on leaving soon, and the thought of who else might stay late made you curious.
“Come in” you yelled, and in came the green eyed guy, whom you hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Harry”
He nodded, leaning in on the doorframe.
“Y/n. How are you?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“Dylan left a week ago. You’ve been working till late ever since. Wanted to check if you were alright”
“Since when do you care?” you replied, unsure of where all this was coming from, especially for a guy who had no feelings for you.
“You know I’ve always cared for you. Since before we were together till today. I never stopped caring”
Your eyes lifted up, staring into his.
“What do you want?”
He sighed, and walked to your desk. He pulled a chair out, dragged it across to your end, and sat beside you.
“Harry–what are you doing?”
“Nothing”
He took your hand in his, and stared into your eyes. It had been so long since you had done that.
“Listen. I know you feel alone right now. And–I’m here for you if you ever wanna talk”
You were not liking his two-faced behavior.
“Shut up”
“What?!” he exclaimed, as if you had said something wrong.
“Don’t give me that “I’m there for you” crap. You don’t give a fuck about me. And you made that perfectly clear when you threw me away those months ago.”
“That’s not true. I do care for you. And I did not  throw you away, okay? It was–It was you, who dumped me”
Your eyes widened, and you stared at him in disbelief.
“You’ve got that wrong! You said you were just with me for sex. And then you said that you can’t take it further because I was getting the wrong signals.”
“I never said that. I just that I was in love with someone else, and that–that I won’t be able to commit to you in the way you want me to”
You sat back, defeated.
“Why Are you pulling all this crap now? Just leave”
You pushed him back, closing the applications on your computer and getting ready to leave.
“Where–what are you doing?”
“Going home. Saving myself from you”
“But, listen–” he got up, just as you did. He grabbed your hand once again.
“What?!” you yelled.
“Just listen to me, please–”
“I’m done fucking listening. I was done listening three months ago”
“But–I–I want to say something–”
You ignored him, taking your stuff and shoving it in your bag. You fetched your keys, and opened uber to call a cab, because your car was with your sister.
“Y/n listen–”
You picked your stuff, slinging your bag over your shoulders and went to turn the lights off. But, what he said next, made you freeze.
“I love you!”
Your legs stopped working, and your eyes widened.
What the fuck.
“Excuse me?” 
You turned around, your eyes full of anger.
He lowered his gaze to the floor, and the anger within you skyrocketed.
You dropped your things to the table once again, walking to him and standing right in front of him.
“I–I love you”
He said once again, his gaze trained to the floor.
You grabbed his chin, lifting his head up. 
His eyes looked into yours. His, were apologetic. Yours, full of anger and disbelief.
“The fuck do you mean you love me? Did Olivia dump you? Or did the whole city say no to sleeping with you?”
Your words hurt him, and his heart sank.
“No! Why–why would you think that?”
“Or–Oh! Or did Natalia stop loving you? Huh? You over her? Your eternal undying love for her is finished?”
He shook his head, “No, I–I broke up with Olivia a month ago. I–I don’t like her anymore”
“Because you love Natalia, right”
“I–I don’t! I–I love you”
“You know you’re saying that to a void, right? Because you’re not getting one back from me in return. What do you want me to do? I should forget all you did to me and come running into your arms? Is that what you want?”
He gave no response, his gaze lowered, even though you were holding his chin up.
“Speak up, Harry!” you yelled, and he flinched. It was the second time you were yelling at him like that, and it made him genuinely scared.
“No, No–I’m not saying that. I–I just want you–to give me a second chance”
“Huh” you exclaimed in disbelief, letting his face go and took a few steps back.
“I’m not fucking around, Y/n. I swear. I–I just want you to take me back once again. I want you to give me a second chance. And punish me however you feel like. Beat me, throw things at me, yell at me. Please, but—but please, give me a second chance. Please”
His voice sounded broken, and tears welled up in his eyes.
“What happened to you, huh? You were, this Harry with a wall of cement over your heart. You threw away anyone who tried to care about you. You threw me away. And now you’re standing in my office, crying, and you want me to care about you once again? Forget what you did to me!?”
Your voice was breaking too, and you too, were about to cry.
“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I was an asshole, and I will never forgive myself for that. But–believe me when I say that I have changed, and that–that I love you”
You couldn’t believe him. Not after what you went through after that. He sounded like he was telling the truth, and you wanted to believe him! But you still couldn’t understand why.
“What happened with Natalia, Harry? And Olivia?”
“I–I broke up with her. I wanted to be with you. But you were with Dylan, and–and I was heartbroken. I thought that I lost you forever”
“Would that be so bad?” you asked.
He walked to you, and got down on his knees in front of you. He reached for your hand, and when you didn’t protest, he took it in his, once again.
“I realized just how much I had lost when I let go of you. I lost the one person I trusted the most. I lost you, and I realized I had no one to even talk to. I had no one to laugh with, no one to get wasted with. You were always there for me. You helped me when I couldn’t help myself, and you even went out of your way to do that. You saved me from being fired, and–and I kept believing the wrong people. When I should have believed you. I should have known you were right. I was–I was just frustrated over the fact that Natalia had broken it off with me. I still believed she loved me, and that–she would leave everything to come back to me. And–and I was wrong. I was wrong about Olivia too. All she wanted was sex, and after almost 2 months with her, I realized she was a female version of me”
You would’ve laughed at that, if the circumstances were different.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. Sorry sorry sorry. I will apologize all you want, I’ll do anything, just–just please, please, take me back”
“But–what happened with Natalia?”
He frowned at the mention of her name, and you squinted your eyes.
“You saw Natalia, didn’t you? And she has something to do with you growing up suddenly? And realizing I was right?”
He gritted his teeth, head lowering as he blinked his eyes in shame.
“Knew it. What did she do?” you said.
“She uh–I went to see her on the weekend, couple weeks before, and to my absolute fucking good luck, her whole family was there”
He raised his eyebrows, remembering just how painful and embarrassing it was.
“So—yeah, I approached her, and everyone asked who I was. So, uh, she said I was her brother”
“Yep. That’ll do it” you replied.
His nose was scrunched, lips in a small pout as he whined at you.
“I then realized she never had feelings for me. She might have had all those years ago, but–she definitely doesn’t”
You nodded. 
You sat in silence for a while, no words exchanged between you two. He looked up at you after a while, his eyes searching for an answer.
“You treated me like shit, Harry. Threw me away like trash the minute you were fed up of me–”
“I wasn’t fed up of you–”
“Let me finish! And don't you dare interrupt me once again”
He shut his mouth and nodded.
“You threw me away the second you found someone to replace me. You threw away my feelings, my emotions, everything. You threw away the trust I had for you. And–and I don’t know if I can trust you once again. You were sleeping with two people, and–and you didn’t even bother telling me! What if I got an STD? And you know how expensive healthcare is! I don’t even know if my insurance covers STDs!”
“I’m sorry”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Harry. You know that”
“Then tell me what to do! Please. I’ll do anything you want. Anything. You want me to murder someone, I’ll do it too”
“I’ll do whatever it takes”  his response was instant.
You shook your head once again.
“You’re not going to get me back so easily”
“Okay, first of all, I’m going to treat you like crap. I’m going to call you when I want, I’m going to do whatever I want. I will sleep with multiple guys. And maybe girls too. I will drink and go home with any person I want. I will run away as soon as you’ve orgasmed. I will not give you any aftercare. I will yell at you for caring about me. Understand?”
He hesitated, mouth open and in distress.
“See? How does it feel when the tables are turned? Feels bad? Huh?”
He nodded, pouting.
“Well, I don’t give a fuck. Feels good from where I see it”
He lowered his gaze in defeat, once again.
You grabbed his face, once again, making him look at you.
“It’s not going to go back to what it was in one night, Harry. It will take time. I will take time.”
“Yes, yes. Whatever you want”
“Maybe months”
“Of course!”
“Years, even”
“I can wait for eternity if It means I get to be with you once again” he declared, and you cringed.
“Wow. I’m gonna dump you right now for saying that” you teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.
“Okay–sorry! I’m sorry. I can–I can wait for however long you want, Y/n”
You licked your lips, and he brought your hands to his face, kissing your knuckles.
“Alright. Drop me home. And I want ice cream.”
He smiled, nodding happily, and getting up in an instant.
“Yes!” he exclaimed, and you bit back a smile. He may be a moron, but he was your moron.
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
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jarritomylob · 7 months
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Masterlist
Hii! Here’s where I’ll leave all my writings. You can request and I’ll try to post as soon as I can :)
Blurbs
Teacher Yn
in which harry finds love in gemma’s daughter teacher yn
You can let it go
where harry meets yn, a new artist who’s trying to make her path through art, which carries parts of her life that she wishes she could just let go
Girlfriend on Tour
where Harry is currently on his European leg of Love on Tour with his girlfriend Yn, who is also a youtuber, are the fans connecting the dots about their secret relationship? 
In life and on the field
Supportive boyfriendrry and his soccer player girlfriend yn
Series
Before i went and fell in love with you [finished]
Harry is the star player of the football team, Yn is the shy girl in his class, what could happen?
one ⁓ two ⁓ three
Masterlist recs
These are some great blogs I've found so far that have amazing content, links to their masterlists below !
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More masterlists here
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