Tumgik
#imagines one direction
zarry-fics · 1 month
Text
Uma quente reconciliação | Harry Styles
AVISOS: +18, conteúdo adulto, brigas, possível linguagem agressiva. Harry não é famoso nesta narrativa.
N/A: Olá, queridas. Atualizando o blog com esse imagine fresquinho que escrevi há pouco tempo. já faz um tempo que busco escrever algo assim, mas estava passando por um bloqueio terrível, mas agora tudo parece ter voltado ao normal. me desculpem a demora, e espero que vcs gostem disso aqui. me perdoem qualquer erro. curtam, comentem, rebloguem para me ajudar e se quiserem, podem mandar asks falando sobre, ou até mesmo sugestões que eu vou estar respondendo assim que possível. gratidão a todas que estão relendo os imagines postados e até as poucas que estão comentando. vocês são incríveis! Gratidão pelo apoio de sempre. 💗
masterlist
Tumblr media
No início de nosso relacionamento, Harry já era um homem muito ocupado com seus negócios. Ele sempre fora do tipo "viciado" em trabalho, já se esforçava muito para tornar a sua empresa reconhecida como é hoje. Então, meio que eu já me envolvi com ele sabendo que não seria fácil.
Não vou negar que tivemos algumas discussões por ele não ter tempo para mim no namoro. Mas eu não podia lhe cobrar muito, já que não éramos casados. E para ser sincera, eu não achei que fôssemos durar. Eu sempre gostei muito do Harry, me apaixonei de verdade principalmente depois de nosso convivência e ter lhe conhecido como o homem que ele foi (e é até hoje para mim). Era diferente estar num relacionamento com ele... Quando tinha tempo, ele se mostrava ser completamente diferente do que aparentava quando não éramos nada mais, nada menos que completos desconhecidos.
Por isso mesmo que quando veio o pedido de casamento, eu fiquei abismada. Harry pediu para casar comigo e aquela foi a notícia mais chocante que recebi na época. Eu imaginava que não duraríamos, porque, convenhamos, eu sou uma mulher extremamente carente. Tenho as minhas necessidades. E como Harry quase não tinha tempo nem para respirar, eu imaginei que ele terminaria uma hora ou outra, depois de entender que eu não era o tipo de mulher que ele precisava e estava procurando.
Eu aceitei me casar com ele. De coração aberto. Mesmo sabendo que ele sempre priorizou o trabalho. Mas, de alguma forma, eu comecei a acreditar que ele mudaria, que uma hora ou outra iria perceber que aquela rotina não faria bem para o nosso relacionamento.
Entretanto, não foi exatamente isso o que aconteceu.
E essa foi a razão que, há uma semana atrás, nos levou a uma discussão severa. Não somente por ele ser um viciado em trabalho, mas porque de uns tempos para cá, depois de um colega de seu trabalho ter tido seu primeiro filho, Harry vem falando muito nisso. Ele fantasia vários cenários com um bebê em seus braços, até me disse que eu ficaria linda grávida, carregando um filho dele em meu ventre.
O que não é completamente diferente dos meus pensamentos, até porque eu também quero ser mãe. Sempre quis. Mas não nessas circunstâncias... Poxa, Harry não tem tempo nem para mim, imagina para uma criança! O problema não é ele querer ter um filho, e sim o tempo que ele não me dá. Harry não me prioriza no nosso relacionamento (essa conclusão me dói muito a ser feita, mas é a mais pura verdade. Não adianta mentir para mim mesma), e ainda pensa em ser pai? Pelo amor de Deus.
Eu fiquei muito brava e me descontrolei.
Surtei horrores e disse a ele coisas que não vou me arrepender, pois não são mentiras. São verdades. Ele também ficou muito bravo e revidou, o que resultou na nossa briga e no fato de não estarmos nos falando há dias. Óbvio que eu estou com vontade de voltar a falar com ele, mas confesso que meu orgulho não me permite fazer tal coisa. Me dói muito ver o meu marido transitando pela casa e não me dando a mínima atenção, e uma maneira de me distrair dessa realidade é trabalhando também, mas a diferença entre nós dois é que eu trabalho de casa e dou a ele o meu tempo.
Achei que nos falaríamos antes da festa que ocorrerá na sede da empresa dele. Eu já tinha confirmado a minha presença, uma vez que é super importante aparecer ao lado dele lá. Há dois ou três dias estou em dúvida se realmente compareço à essa festa, mas até mesmo o Harry não comentou nada sobre, o que me deixa muito, mas muito triste.
Talvez eu esteja esperando que ele seja o primeiro a falar comigo, mas ao que parece, ele é tão orgulhoso quanto eu sou. O que, caso persista, pode acabar com o nosso relacionamento.
Harry continuou sem falar comigo. Passaram-se uma, duas, três horas antes da festa e quando chegou em certo momento, ele simplesmente saiu sem dizer uma palavra sobre.
Fiquei muito revoltada. E ao receber a visita de Katherine, uma velha amiga, ouvi-a comentar que se eu quisesse meu casamento de pé, deveria engolir o meu orgulho e dar o primeiro passo para a nossa reconciliação. Até porque eu fui grossa com Harry; entendo que ele é um babaca viciado em trabalho, mas talvez eu pudesse ter sido mais gentil nas minhas palavras, sem desvalorizar os sonhos do meu marido.
As palavras dela ecoaram na minha mente por bastante tempo, até que eu não consegui conter a mim mesma e simplesmente tomei a decisão de ir ao encontro do Harry. A minha presença seria muito importante, eu precisava estar ao lado do meu marido numa festividade como esta.
Escolhi um vestido na cor vermelha que, por sinal, é uma das cores preferidas do Harry. Ele nunca me disse isso, mas percebo pela forma como me olha quando eu uso essa cor, em qualquer momento. A peça uma fenda na coxa, o que deixa em evidência a torneamento da mesma; ao mesmo tempo, algumas tiras nas costas que são um charme.
Tomei um bom banho, fiz uma maquiagem que evidenciasse os meus olhos e coloquei o vestido. Como penteado, fiz cachos na ponta e lhe dei um pouco mais de volume. Ao terminar, me olhei no espelho e muito me agradou a imagem refletida nele; mas meu coração não abandona a triste sensação de estar sem falar com o Harry.
Odeio quando estamos assim. Mesmo que ele tenha agido por onde estivéssemos dessa forma, eu odeio ficar longe dele. Confesso que senti muito a falta dos seus braços me aquecendo à noite, porque eu mesma optei por dormir no quarto de hóspedes para não ter que dividir a cama com ele. Essa decisão, obviamente, eu tomei quando ainda estava muito, mas muito brava mas não me orgulho nada do que fiz.
Ambos erramos, mas hoje eu estou disposta a consertar as coisas.
Ao sair de casa, o motorista do meu marido já estava por ali e aceitou me levar até a empresa dele. Meu coração palpitava cada vez mais rápido, a medida que eu percebia que já estava chegando; minhas mãos suavam de uma maneira irritante, mas tentei manter a calma.
── Quer que eu te acompanhe até lá dentro, sra. Styles?
Tom indagou, muito educado. Eu olhei para a porta e vi os seguranças fazendo o seu trabalho, além do fluxo de convidados que estavam entrando e saindo dali. Eu queria ter coragem o suficiente para entrar sozinha, mas aceitei de bom grado a ajuda do motorista.
Ele estendeu seu braço para que eu me apoiasse e assim o fiz. Juntos, passamos pelas grandes portas. Cumprimentei os seguranças e eles até acenaram, surpresos por me verem ali.
Não pude deixar de perceber também a maneira como Diego, um deles, me encarou. Seus olhos me analisaram de cima a baixo e um meio sorriso pintou os seus lábios. Isso me deixou muito nervosa e sem graça, por esta razão tentei fingir que não notei que o descarado estava me secando cinicamente.
── Tudo bem, senhora? ── perguntou Tom, uma vez que estávamos dentro.
Olhei em volta e senti o peso de muitos olhares sobre mim. Minhas bochechas começaram a pegar fogo, e eu abaixei a cabeça, respirando fundo para tentar relaxar. ── Sim, Tom. Muito obrigada por vir até aqui. ── eu sorri minimamente para o rapaz que só assentiu, se retirando.
Nunca gostei de chamar a atenção, mas o destino cruzou o meu caminho ao de um homem que mesmo que queira, não consegue não chamar atenção de ninguém. Seja por sua beleza, ou postura. Irônico, não?
Caminhei alguns poucos metros em direção ao bar para tomar alguma coisa que me deixasse mais à vontade. Meu marido ainda não tinha aparecido no meu campo de visão, mas eu sei muito bem que será só uma questão de tempo até ele descobrir que estou aqui. As pessoas comentam muito.
Peguei uma taça de champanhe e tomei um longo gole, pegando uma outra logo em seguida. Estou muito inquieta, por isso meus olhos não param de voar por entre todos os corpos aqui presentes; porque quem eu espero ver é o meu marido, e não consigo. Onde será que ele está?
── Sra. Styles! Que prazer tê-la aqui! ── ouvi a voz do Sr. Hoffmann, um grande aliado do pai de Harry, mas não dele em si. O homem é muito bonito e desperta os ciúmes de meu marido.
Ele nunca falou nada sobre Apolo para mim, mas eu sei que não se sente confortável quando está perto de mim. Talvez já tenha notado os flertes nada discretos que este cínico lança a mim.
Mas o que me chamou a atenção foi ele ter me chamado de “Sra. Styles”. Ele nunca fez isso! Talvez esteja, de alguma forma, debochando da situação. ── Olá, Apolo. Te digo o mesmo! ── menti, obviamente. Mas não tirei o sorriso do meu rosto. ── Já faz um tempo que não te vejo. Estava fora da Inglaterra? ── indaguei não por interesse, mas para puxar assunto e não ficar somente aqui parada feito um poste enquanto meu marido está sei lá aonde.
Apolo abriu um sorriso e passou os olhos pela minha boca antes de responder: ── Por que o interesse repentino? Estava com saudades, querida? ── ele deu um passo a mais na minha direção e eu arregalei os olhos, completamente assustada porque por um momento, eu juro que achei que ele me beijaria.
── Não, eu só estava curiosa. Porque você ainda trabalha nesta empresa, Sr. Hoffmann. ── tentei me corrigir, porque não quero que ele pense errado sobre mim.
── Ah, não precisa fingir. Vi nos seus olhos que, de fato, estava com saudades. Por que só não admite? ── ele agarrou o meu pulso e fez menção de me puxar para mais perto, mas eu continuava me afastando.
── Apolo, eu-
── Acho melhor você tirar as mãos da minha mulher. Isso se não quiser ficar sem elas, Hoffmann. ── a voz do Harry irradiou o nosso "diálogo", o que fez com que ambos olhássemos na sua direção.
Confesso que meu coração quase parou de bater. Harry está vestindo um terno completamente preto e seus cabelos estão incrivelmente bem arrumados. Além do cheiro do perfume dele que eu poderia sentir há quilômetros de distância.
Apolo deu uma gargalhada e, antes de largar a minha mão, beijou a costa dela, mandando uma piscadela para mim. ── Ora, Harry. Não seja tão ciumento... Eu só estava cumprimentando a sua esposa, ela está maravilhosamente bela esta noite. Você tem que admitir.
── Se afaste dela, caralho. Eu estou ordenando! ── Harry murmurou de maneira rígida, se aproximando de mim rapidamente e me afastando do homem à nossa frente. Ele me pôs atrás de seu corpo e agarrou a minha mão, apertando-a sutilmente. ── Nunca mais se aproxime dela de novo. Se você fizer isso, garanto que o meu respeito e consideração pelo meu pai não me impedirão de te jogar no olho da rua. ── ameaçou-o, que ergueu o queixo e se aproximou dele, meio que o desafiando.
── Você não seria capaz. Trabalho nesta empresa há anos!
Em resposta, meu marido riu.
── Você acha mesmo? Pois então me desafie! Chegue perto da S/N mais uma vez e eu te chuto do último andar deste prédio, só pra me certificar que você não estará vivo ao alcançar o chão.
Ditas essas palavras, ele me afastou de Apolo e eu não me atrevi a dizer uma palavra, até porque estava processando tudo o que ele disse. Nunca vi o Harry dessa maneira, nunca o ouvi dizendo palavras tão duras.
Pelo menos ele nunca agiu assim comigo.
Caminhamos juntos até o elevador e eu notei quando meu marido pressionou o botão que nos levaria ao último andar, onde fica o seu escritório. Engoli a seco. ── O que está fazendo, Harry? ── eu perguntei, sem entender o que está acontecendo.
── Precisamos conversar.
Ao entrarmos na sala dele, eu fiquei muito mais tensa. ── Olha, Harry... Eu não vim aqui para brigar com você. Eu só queria-
── Eu não quero brigar com você, S/N. ── ele me interrompeu, justificando-se.
── Ah, não? ── fiquei até surpresa depois de ouvir tais palavras.
── Não. Eu só quero me desculpar com você, porque... Porque eu sei que errei. Não deveria ter te negligenciado. Eu sei que estou sendo um péssimo marido ultimamente e acredite, não me orgulho disso. Mas você sabe muito bem que eu tenho estado aflito com todos os problemas que estão me cercando nesta empresa nos últimos meses. A demissão em massa que sofremos me angustia até hoje porque ainda não conseguimos repor os funcionários que foram demitidos, está tudo uma correria. ── ele explicou tudo de maneira rápida e objetiva, me olhando nos olhos. ── Me perdoa, S/N. Eu sei que tenho sido injusto com você, e fui um grande idiota depois de propor a você filhos, mesmo sabendo que não tenho tempo para você.
── Harry....
── Não estou bem em ficar sem falar com você, mas porra, eu estava muito envergonhado. Com medo de que você possa encontrar alguém melhor, alguém como o Apolo por exemplo. Eu sei que aquele babaca é obcecado por você desde que pôs os olhos em ti, mas-
Quando o ouvi falar isso, eu neguei com a cabeça e me aproximei dele, com bastante cuidado. Harry está encostado na borda de sua mesa, e quando cheguei bem perto, coloquei as mãos no rosto dele e sorri minimamente. Sentir o calor do seu corpo no meu fez eu me sentir a droga de uma adolescente. Só então eu percebi o quanto senti falta deste homem. ── Não diga besteiras, Harry. Não fale uma bobagem dessas porque eu não quero o Apolo, não quero ninguém! Eu quero você, meu amor. ── disse baixo, sem desviar nossos olhares. ── Eu não quero estar com ninguém que não seja você. Foda-se esta droga de homem e a obsessão dele, aquele cretino não é e nunca será você.
Seus olhos brilharam ao me ouvir falar. Meu sorriso aumentou muito mais, e eu coloquei as minhas mãos em seu cabelo, o acariciando. ── Eu amo você, Harry. E quero passar o resto da minha vida do seu lado. Quando aceitei me casar com você, eu sabia que não seria fácil. Mas eu estou disposta a-
Não consegui ao menos terminar de falar, porque ele grudou nossos lábios num beijo completamente inesperado. Sua mão imediatamente foi de encontro a minha bunda e apertou com muita força, o que me fez arfar. ── Eu prometo que vou ser melhor daqui pra frente, amor. Prometo. Mesmo que esta droga de empresa esteja caindo aos pedaços, eu não vou mais te deixar de lado. Nunca!
Essa frase soou mais como uma promessa, uma promessa que me fez bambeou as minhas pernas.
Não consegui não ouvir aquilo e não o beijar mais uma vez. Enrosquei meus dedos em seus cabelos e os puxei com um pouco de força, ouvindo um gemido baixo vindo dos lábios do meu marido. Ele explorava o meu corpo sem qualquer pudor, suas mãos viajavam pelos vários extremos de mim, até que chegaram às tiras do vestido; ele as puxou, o que fez com que se desatassem e o vestido afrouxasse ao meu redor. ── Harry... O que você... ── tentei fazer alguma pergunta coerente, mas minha respiração desregulada só me fez parecer desesperada por ele.
E eu confesso... Talvez eu de fato esteja.
── O quê? ── perguntou ele, passando seus beijos para meu pescoço, deixando mordidas e selinhos por toda a extensão de minha pele. Essa atitude arrepiou o meu corpo inteiro, eu cheguei a tremer nos braços dele.
── Nós não podemos fazer isso aqui, eu-
Meu lado racional estava dando as caras, porque eu sabia que sentiriam a nossa falta, até porque o meu marido é o centro de tudo o que está acontecendo hoje. Mas Harry não se importa nem um pouco. Ele só sorriu e mordeu suavemente o meu lábio inferior..── Foda-se. Eu sou o dono dessa porra, faço o que quiser aqui. E se eu quero comer a minha linda esposa no meu escritório de novo, farei isso!
Quando ele falou isso, não restaram mais dúvidas: vamos foder aqui mesmo. E se ele não se importa, tampouco eu me importarei.
Estava ansiosa para tê-lo dentro de mim, mas queria brincar um pouco. Até porque faz tempo que não nos tocamos desse jeito, eu queria aproveitar. Abri o zíper da sua calça e puxei o botão, a empurrando para baixo junto com sua boxer; dessa forma, Harry ficou nú diante dos meus olhos. E eu não deixaria de encarar a sua deliciosa ereção, senti muita água na boca e quando pensei que poderia me ajoelhar e fazer o que sei de melhor, ele inverteu as nossas posições e me colocou sentada na sua mesa, que estava limpa, não havia nada a ser jogado no chão.
── Quero tanto sentir você na minha cara. Não sabe o quanto isso me fez falta, meu amor!
Ele meio que me jogou sobre a mesa e arrancou o vestido do meu corpo, jogando-o num canto qualquer. Meus olhos triplicaram de tamanho quando ele abriu as minhas pernas e deu início a uma série de carícias em meu clitóris, o que enviou choques elétricos por toda a minha corrente sanguínea. Gemi baixo em resposta, me contorcendo de tanto desejo. ── Porra, amor... Não me provoca, 'tô com tanto tesão, eu-
Sentia algum ponto em meu corpo doer tamanha a vontade que eu estava sentindo. Mas tudo o que Harry fez foi sorrir e me beijar a parte interna de minhas coxas, distribuindo algumas carícias naquela região; só acariciava suavemente o verdadeiro ponto onde deveria dar atenção. Ele queria me provocar o máximo que pudesse, mas eu não aguentaria. ── Harry, por favor! ── novamente me vi implorando, tentando me mover o máximo que podia para tentar induzí-lo a me tocar, mas tudo o que o bastardinho fez foi me imobilizar, me mantendo imóvel.
── Seja mais discreta, querida. Não vai querer que ouçam a gente aqui, hm?
O tom dessa pergunta foi totalmente debochado. Ele estava claramente se divertindo com a situação. De tanto eu implorar, ele levou seus lábios ao meu desejo e então, quase me fez gritar quando começou a me chupar de maneira ímpar, o que me fez delirar. Eu agarrei os cabelos dele e abri mais as minhas pernas, sentindo meu corpo inteiro pegar fogo, quando somada à sua língua que já trabalha a divinamente para me dar prazer, seus dedos foram introduzidos em mim e escorregaram com muita facilidade.
Harry não parou. Ele continuou e aumentou cada vez mais as suas investidas, sua língua deslizava por toda a extensão da minha vulva, seus dedos faziam mágica dentro de mim. A junção dessas ações me levariam à loucura, me perguntei diversas vezes como fiquei tanto tempo sem aquilo, como pude não sentir tanta falta disso. ── Harry! ── eu clamei por ele, e mesmo que tentasse ser discreta, era quase impossível.
Jogava meu quadril por diversas vezes em seu rosto, mas ele não me parou. Estava me sentindo tão bem que sequer parecia real, e cada vez que eu implorava por ele, gritava o seu nome, sentia como se fosse explodir. ── Porra, amor! Não para, por favor, por favor.... ── eu pedi no meio do meu desespero, empurrando cada vez mais a sua cabeça para o meio de minhas pernas. A sensação de êxtase só aumentava cada vez mais, eu sentia que estava chegando muito perto de um orgasmo.
Mas o maldito foi diminuindo a intensidade do que fazia, até que parou completamente e quando voltou a se erguer, olhei para o rosto dele e quase gozei mediante a magnitude da sua beleza. Seus lábios estavam vermelhos, assim como suas bochechas (estas estavam meio rosadas, somente). Ele abriu um lindo sorriso cínico, que é quase como se me dissesse — silenciosamente: "Vou te quebrar inteira agora".
E, porra, se esse canalha não me fizesse perder a força das pernas por pelo menos alguns segundos antes de sairmos daqui, eu com certeza permaneço sem falar com ele por um tempo. ── Por que você parou? ── eu perguntei, baixo e sem estruturas, porque sei exatamente o que vem agora.
── Eu quero foder você. Agora. ── me respondeu simplesmente, e grudou os nossos corpos, depois de me puxar pelas mãos para que eu voltasse a ficar sentada. Meus seios estavam descobertos e eu o vi encará-los como se fosse um animal faminto e dessa mesma forma, ele os abocanhou; enquanto chupava um, acariciava o outro e eu só conseguia sentir a minha buceta pingando cada vez mais, pulsando dolorosamente, o que me fazia choramingar e implorar para que ele me foda de uma vez. Sinto que se não fizer isso, eu vou morrer.
Me estiquei para tocar seu pau, sentindo-o rígido sob meus dedos. Comecei então a massageá-lo, esfregando meus dedos na sua ponta, intercalando entre movimentos que já sei que o excitam muito. E a sua resposta foi sugar com um pouco mais de força o meu peito; isso me fez gemer um "ah" meio doloroso, mas não me atrevi a pedir para ele parar porque estava muito gostoso. ── Amor... ── eu gemi baixinho, grudando ainda mais os nossos corpos, o trazendo para mais perto com as minhas pernas.
Inesperadamente, Harry me agarrou e me levou até a parede mais próxima, me jogando contra ela e dando uma sugada muito forte no meu pescoço, o que fez com que a pele ardesse. Eu gritei, mas não de dor; sabia que podiam ouvir a gente aqui, mas não conseguia pensar em mais nada que não fosse o pau dele entrando dentro de mim.
Harry aproximou seus lábios do meu ouvido, e, depois de lamber copiosamente a cartilagem desta última (me levando ainda mais à loucura). ── Coloca dentro. ── ele ordenou, e logo após isso se afastou para olhar em meus olhos. Ele sabia que aquelas palavras teriam um grande impacto dentro de mim.
Eu não ousei contestá-lo. Até porque o tesão que eu senti em ouvir ele me fazendo aquele pedido, seria capaz de me fazer desmaiar. Harry nunca falou aquilo, mas eu gostei; por isso mesmo o peguei e alinhei onde deveria estar, e não demorou para que ele empurrasse para dentro, arrancando suspiros roucos de nós dois. ── Caralho. ── eu resmunguei, tomada pelo prazer que essa ação me trouxe.
── Porra, eu... S/N. ── não demorou três segundos para que ele começasse a me foder, exatamente do jeitinho que sempre fez. Gemidos escapavam de meus lábios sem que eu os pudesse controlar; ao menos conseguia manter meus olhos abertos. Mas Harry odeia isso, ele sempre gosta de manter o contato visual em nossas fodas e dessa vez não seria diferente. ── Eu quero que você olhe pra mim, caralho!
Ele rosnou próximo do meu rosto e rapidamente eu abri os olhos, olhando diretamente para o seu par de esmeraldas, geralmente tão brilhantes mas não dessa vez. Seus olhos estavam escuros, e eu não prestei atenção somente nesses detalhes. Também vi que sua mandíbula estava travada e o suor já se fazia presente em algumas áreas de seu pescoço.
Eu fiquei ainda mais louca por ele. Se é que isso é possível.
── Harry, meu amor... Eu não- ── tentei avisar a ele que não conseguiria manter meus olhos abertos, mas não consegui falar nada. Ao contrário disso, olhei na direção do quadril dele, e a visão de vê-lo batendo contra o meu, a visão dos seus pêlos que ainda estão bem curtos (crescendo); gemi mais alto, agarrando-o pelos ombros e mantendo-nos dessa forma.
Estávamos tão unidos que eu sentia seu coração batendo, e estava tão, mas tão rápido. ── Não vou aguentar por muito tempo, Hazz. ── me justifiquei, até porque já estava deveras sensível pelo oral divino que ele me fez.
Bem como eu imaginava, ele não se importou. Muito pelo contrário, aumentou ainda mais as suas investidas e ainda gemia baixo no meu ouvido, ao mesmo tempo arfando. Ele grunhia de forma discreta, ao contrário de mim; somente eu devo escutá-lo dessa maneira. E isso é tão excitante quanto nosso sexo em si. ── Eu sei que você aguenta, amor. Você aguenta sim! ── rebateu, e novamente mudamos de lugar. Harry me levou para o sofá no canto da sala e me jogou ali, assumindo a sua posição acima do meu corpo.
O barulho dos nossos corpos se fundindo podia ser ouvido em alto e bom som. Eu me preocuparia de ser ouvida quando acabássemos, não naquele momento. Harry estava me fodendo tão deliciosamente, e foi aumentando mais ainda a intensidade. Sabia que ele estava chegando no seu limite, assim como eu.
Queria gozar junto a ele, por isso mesmo levei minha mão ao meu clitóris, o estimulando de uma maneira não tão precisa, até porque meus dedos estão trêmulos. Mas Harry adorou a visão, percebi pela forma como ele sorriu ao me ver fazendo aquilo. ── Caralho, amor. Eu esqueci a porra da camisinha! ── ele murmurou desesperado, mas não conseguia parar. Era sempre assim quando fazíamos sexo sem a droga do preservativo.
Por que é sempre mais gostoso?
Mas dessa vez vai ser diferente. Assim como ele, eu sequer pensei nas consequências. ── Foda-se. Goza dentro de mim, amor! Por favor! ── falando isso, eu de fato implorei. Meus olhos até chegaram a lacrimejar, se Harry ousasse sair de dentro de mim eu com certeza o mataria.
Ele sabia que não seria a melhor coisa a se fazer, mas não ousou parar até que ambos chegássemos ao nosso limite. Assim que aconteceu, ele repousou seu corpo sobre o meu e suspirou, me agarrando com muita força. ── Amor, eu te amo tanto. Talvez não seja uma má ideia colocar um bebê dentro de você. ── ele disse baixo, com a voz sonolenta.
Revirei os olhos. Não ousei falar nada sobre isso, até porque agora a minha ficha estava caindo, estávamos uma tremenda bagunça, como voltaríamos sem notarem que estávamos transando?
Mesmo que sejamos casados há muito tempo, eu ainda sou muito tímida quanto à minha vida intima com meu marido.
Comentei brevemente sobre o assunto com Harry, mas ao contrário de mim, ele não se importou. Muito pelo contrário. Agarrar um dos meus peitos e massageá-lo entre os dedos estava o distraindo completamente, de modo que só me mandou um: ── Ah, foda-se. Quem não transa hoje em dia? Se não gostarem, não posso fazer nada! ── como resposta.
Ok. Talvez isso tenha sido bastante reconfortante para mim.
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
57 notes · View notes
Note
Hmmm, meu primeiro pedido de concept.
Quero um angust com os números 10, 12, 15 e 16
Bem dramático do jeito q eu gosto.
Frases: Você foi uma perda de tempo." "Você me fez me odiar./Quando você deixou de me amar?/Como faço para você me amar de novo?"
Aviso: Angústia.
NotaAutora: @nihstyles que goste meu amor, deixei ele bem dramático 🥹🥹
🌼 MASTERLIST 🌼
Tumblr media
HARRY CONCEPT #21
— Que porra é essa? — S/n gritou assim que olhou a foto no celular de sua dama de honra — Isso é real?
Era seu noivo sentado em uma poltrona com uma mulher nua o beijando.
— Foi tirada ontem a noite. — Sua irmã tristemente respondeu. — Na despedida de solteiro dele.
— O que?! Ele não pode ter feito isso comigo. — Ela tentava se mexer, mas o enorme vestido branco impedia de fazer muitos movimentos.
— S/n, você está bem?
— Lógico que não, cadê ele? Está no outro cômodo?
— Não! Ele já está no altar esperando, você vai até lá?
— Eu preciso, porque não vai haver mais casamento. — Soltou um suspiro longo, tomando coragem para a situação mais constrangedora de sua vida.
Tumblr media
Não era para terminar assim.
Houve uma época em que tudo era perfeito, uma época onde S/n era uma noiva feliz e Harry não a traíu.
Ela gostaria de poder voltar no tempo.
 — O que faz aqui? Eu já não disse que não era mais para aparecer. — Seu coração apertou-se ao vê-lo entrar pela porta lateral de manhã.
— Eu só vim pegar algumas coisas.
— Faça isso rápido. — Rispidamente retrucou. — Vou sair daqui a 20 minutos e não quero você aqui.
— Eu tenho muitas coisas não vou conseguir tudo nesse tempo.
— Eu não importo, só quero que você suma da minha casa, eu ainda estou sendo bem boazinha deixando você pegar suas coisas ao invés de queima-lás.
— Da nossa casa, essa ainda é minha casa. — Afirmou com convicção.
— Não, esta não é nossa casa, ela deixou de ser um lar, logo após você ter dormido com outra mulher.
— Eu já te disse que isso nunca aconteceu.
— Ah! Sim, só foi um beijo estúpido na sua despedida de solteiro?! Não foi assim que você descreveu? — Ironizou, jogando sua xícara na pia,todo o apetite de café da manhã havia sumido — Mas eu vi a porra da foto, ela estava nua em cima de você, Harry.
— Olha, eu não vou entrar nessa discussão de novo, estou cansado.
— Que bom, porque já estou cansada de ver suas lágrimas falsas de perdão. 
— Não precisa ser tão rude comigo, eu ainda sou um ser humano, sabia? E você tem me tratado pior que um animal. 
— E como eu deveria tratar um traidor? Que simplesmente me fez passar a pior coisa da minha vida?
Não restava mais nada além de pura amargura e ódio dentro dela nesse momento.
— Eu sei que mereço ser punido, eu sei, no momento que eu vi a stripper lá eu deveria ter acabado com tudo,eu sei, mas todos estavam animados e bêbados e ela acabou me beijando sem mesmo eu querer isso, me perdoa por ser um bêbado estúpido, quantas vezes eu preciso dizer que eu nunca quis aquilo, mas o que você anda fazendo me machuca muito, parece que todo o amor sumiu. — Seus olhos estavam vermelhos, prestes a chorar. — Quando você deixou de me amar?
— No momento em que eu vi aquela porra de foto prestes a entrar no altar!— Às lágrimas quentes borravam sua maquiagem. — Quer que eu me importe com seus sentimentos agora? Você pensou nos meus sentimentos quando me traiu? Certamente não pensou enquanto bebia e via uma stripper nua na sua frente ou quando todos naquela igreja também viram aquela foto, então por que eu deveria ser boazinha com você? — Apontava o dedo indicador para ele. — Você me fez me odiar. — Soluçou. — É isso que uma traição causa em uma pessoa.
Tumblr media
 
Harry se odiava e odiava mais por ela o odiar agora. Ele fez a única coisa que prometeu que nunca faria. Ele quebrou seu coração.Ele disse que ela era o amor da vida dele e depois a fez sentir completamente o contrário. Agora nada poderia consertar seu erro.
— Aqui estão as chaves, o aluguel vence dia 09, pague certinho e não teremos problemas. — O senhor de bigode entregou o molho ao Harry. 
— Muito obrigado. — Sorriu educadamente antes de fechar a porta.
Vendo aquele apartamento vazio, ele quis chorar, tudo parecia estranho sem ela, ele precisava daquela doce voz para dizer que tudo ficaria bem. Ele nunca quis magoá-la, Harry desejou nunca ter ido à casa do Matt naquela noite estúpida, porque aquele beijo não significou nada, mas isso não importa mais, porque custou tudo a ele e dói demais até para admitir.
 
As coisas do novo apartamento finalmente estavam no devido lugar, mas ainda percebeu faltar algo. A dor no peito só aumentou assim que ele deitou-se exausto na cama para dormir, mas não conseguia, ele precisava dela, ambos eram para estar em lua de mel agora, mas nunca aconteceu por sua causa dele e sabia que do outro lado da cidade ela estava tão triste quanto ele.
Harry precisava tentar uma última vez, nem que fosse para sair de coração partido, ele vestiu seus sapatos de corrida e correu por quase toda a cidade até ir de encontro a porta dela.
— Oi... — Seu sorriso era tímido assim que S/n atendeu a porta na oitava vez que apertou a campainha.
— O que você veio fazer aqui?
— Eu precisava ver você. 
— Tchau, Harry. — Revirou os olhos, indo fechar a porta.
— Espere. — Ele colocou o pé a impedindo.
— O quê?! — Sua voz já estava um pouco alterada.
Ele percebeu seus olhos inchados, ela chorou.
— Eu preciso te perguntar uma coisa.
— Perguntar o quê?
— Como faço para você me amar de novo? — Quase como um sussurro questionou. — Você é a melhor coisa que já aconteceu comigo, eu não quero ficar sem você.
Sua expressão não mudou, em outra vida seu coração até podia palpitar ao ouvir essas palavras, mas agora era só dor que preenchia seu peito, ele fez isso com ela. Harry era tudo para ela, seu porto seguro, sua alma gêmea, mas agora não passava do homem que quebrou seu coração.
— Você foi uma perda de tempo.
Não era assim que se consertava as coisas, ele simplesmente não podia só chegar e dizer o quanto a queria, assim ele só estava piorando as coisas e a machucando ainda mais no processo.
— S/n, por favor. — Harry ajoelhou-se implorando. — Eu faço o que for preciso para ter você de volta, pode me tratar como quiser, pode me xingar e me fazer de capacho, eu faço tudo com tanto que no final do dia eu possa estar com você, olhar para você, eu não consigo viver sem você.
— Eu não consigo mais confiar em você, sei que você diz que foi só uma noite e só um beijo, mas você é um traidor, você beijou outra pessoa um dia antes de se casar comigo, como eu posso querer uma vida com alguém que é capaz disto? Vá embora, Harry e faz um favor a nós dois não me procure mais. — A porta foi lentamente se fechando, mas a dúvida em sua mente a consumiu a fazendo perguntar. — Harry?
— Sim? — Ele já estava pronto pra se virar e partir.
— Valeu a pena?
— Você sabe que não.
Muito obrigada por ler até aqui! Se gostou fav, reblogue ou deixe uma ask, isso realmente é muito importante para mim 🥺♥️
Taglist: @little-big-fan @say-narry @umadirectioner @harry-sofrida @lanavelstommo
45 notes · View notes
mundodafantasia1d · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Champagne Problems
Harry olhou para a mulher no banco do passageiro, ela olhava pela janela. 
- Olho na estrada, Styles - ela sorriu sem olhar para ele. 
- Desculpa - ele voltou a atenção para a estrada à sua frente. 
- Falta muito para chegarmos? 
- Não, estamos quase chegando. 
- Sua mãe não ficou muito chateada por termos decidido ficar no hotel, ficou? 
- Ela falou por um bom tempo mas entendeu que seria melhor assim, ela e a Gemma estão tão ocupadas com esse casamento. 
- Não quero nem imaginar o trabalho que elas estão tendo - (s/n) comentou, se arrepiando só de pensar.
Gemma, irmã de Harry, se casaria nesse fim de semana e essa era a razão pela qual estavam indo para a cidade natal de seu namorado. Eles optaram por ficar em um hotel, (s/n) queria evitar a confusão do casamento. Ela nunca gostou de casamentos, mas com certeza gostaria da festa.
Chegaram ao hotel no fim da tarde, arrumaram suas coisas e foram para o jantar de ensaio do casamento, Harry seria padrinho. Foi uma noite até agradável, tirando o fato de que seu namorado desapareceu e voltou dizendo que só tinha ido ao banheiro mas sua cara de quem tava aprontando o acusou, mas ela deixou para lá quando sua sogra perguntou sobre seu vestido.
(S/n) teve que admitir, o casamento foi lindo. Gemma estava deslumbrante em seu vestido branco, (s/n) sempre achou brega mas a cunhada estava irradiando uma luz linda. Todos pareciam tão felizes por Gemma e Michal e era possível sentir o amor dos dois emanar deles. (S/n) podia não gostar de casamentos e com certeza não queria se casar nunca, mas não era insensível à felicidade deles. 
E Harry estava tão feliz pela irmã, e ela amava ver Harry feliz. Eles dançavam em meio a risadas e (s/n) pensou que a noite estava impressionantemente agradável.
Até o momento em que a música parou e Gemma entregou o microfone para Harry. Ele parecia nervoso, suas mãos estavam suadas, ele segurava sua mão e sorriu para ela antes de dizer: 
- Antes de mais nada eu tenho que dar os créditos a Gemma que teve a ideia, você sabe que essas pessoas aqui são as mais importantes da minha vida e eu estou muito feliz por elas poderem presenciar esse momento - (s/n) ficou pálida na mesma hora e mentalmente implorou para que não fosse o que ela pensava que seria - Vou contar uma história, em uma manhã de terça feira, eu fui para a academia, treinei como sempre faço nas minhas folgas e quando estava saindo vi essa linda mulher na recepção da academia, usando roupas de ginástica, cabelo amarrado e com esse sorriso lindo que ela tem, sendo extremamente educada enquanto soletrava seu nome para a recepcionista - as pessoas ao redor riram, mas ela estava paralisada - Nunca vou esquecer esse dia, porque foi nele em que conheci a mulher com quem quero viver minha vida, cada minuto ao seu lado tem sido um sonho e eu nunca tive tanta certeza de algo na minha vida, como tenho de que você é o amor da minha vida, por isso eu tenho uma pergunta pra fazer - ele tirou uma caixinha do bolso e se ajoelhou, ela entrou em pânico - (S/n), você aceita se casar comigo? 
Podia ouvir os sussurros das pessoas ao redor, as reações de surpresa, os gritos de sim, mas tudo isso parecia tão distante para ela. Não soube ao certo quanto tempo ficou parada sem esboçar qualquer reação. 
- Posso colocar o anel da minha mãe no seu dedo? - Harry perguntou após um tempo já com o anel próximo ao seu dedo, mas ela puxou a mão imediatamente. 
- Não - sussurrou. 
- O que? - ele perguntou. 
- Desculpa - sua voz não passava de um sussurro. 
- (S/n), eu não estou entendendo. 
- Eu não quero me casar - ela deixou as palavras escaparem, rápida e atrapalhadamente, com os olhos fechados, pois não aguentaria olhar em seu rosto agora. 
- Você está negando meu pedido? - ele se levantou.
- Estou - depois de alguns segundos ela abriu os olhos e viu a dor em seu rosto, ele respirou fundo. 
- Ela não quer se casar comigo - ele disse para as pessoas ao redor que reagiram surpresas.
Ela não conseguia mais ficar lá, foi se afastando enquanto o via lá parado, a mão com a caixa do anel no bolso, o olhar triste. 
- Ela teria sido uma noiva tão adorável, que pena que ela não tem uma cabeça boa - ouviu a tia de Harry comentar.
Gemma espirrou e deixou a garrafa de champanhe que segurava cair, não iriam precisar dela de todo jeito, ninguém estava comemorando, nenhuma multidão de amigos estava aplaudindo, os céticos da cidade natal de Harry chamaram isso de problemas com champanhe.
Então ela foi embora.
Harry não foi para o hotel naquela noite e quando ela tentou ligar para ele na manhã seguinte, ele não atendeu. No dia seguinte, a mãe dele apareceu para pegar as coisas dele, ela tentou falar com a sogra que não quis a escutar. 
- Anne, por favor... - ela a interrompeu. 
- Eu não quero escutar (s/n), você magoou muito o Harry, em frente de todas as pessoas importantes para ele, não esperava isso de você. 
- Se você puder me deixar explicar. 
- Não é a mim que você deve explicações, é ao Harry, ele está na casa de vocês, se você o ama de verdade sugiro ter uma explicação muito boa para o que fez. 
Sozinha, ela decidiu reservar o trem noturno, assim ela poderia sentar lá com sua dor, multidões movimentadas ou pessoas dormindo silenciosas, não tinha certeza do que era pior. 
Chegou na casa em que vivia com Harry, não sabia se conseguiria encará-lo mas precisava tentar. Ele estava na sala, no escuro, com uma taça de champanhe na mão. 
- Harry - ela o chamou mas ele não a olhou. - Eu deixei sua mão cair, eu sei que te machuquei, eu juro que meu coração despedaçou quando te deixei lá, parado, desanimado, o anel da sua mãe no bolso. Seu coração era de vidro e eu deixei cair. Eu sinto muito por isso. 
- Desculpas esfarrapadas é tudo o que você tem? - a voz dele era baixa e rouca e ele não a olhou. - Palavras bonitas não vão amenizar a dor. 
- Olha, eu agradeço pelo que você fez, você tinha um discurso e eu deixei você sem palavras, mas... 
- Chega - ela se assustou com o grito dele - É você que tem um discurso aqui, aposto que veio pensando nele o caminho todo, pegou o trem noturno, evitou multidões porque sabe que agora todos falam disso, do papel ridículo que passei - ele se levantou e finalmente a encarou. - O amor escorregou além do seu alcance, se você tiver uma boa razão fala agora porque é a última chance de salvá-lo. 
- Eu não poderia dar uma razão. 
- Então vai, arrume suas coisas.
Ele a deixou sozinha e ela desabou. Horas depois ela chegou a um dormitório onde seria seu lar até colocar sua vida de volta nos trilhos, se isso fosse possível sem ele. 
“Este dormitório já foi um hospício” estava escrito em um canto da parede. 
- Bem, é feito para mim - ela riu sem graça, e o riso foi se transformando em choro. Até que dormiu.
No dia seguinte, todos noticiavam que Harry foi visto no aeroporto deixando o país, ela havia o perdido.
Era uma noite fria, algumas semanas depois de ter perdido o homem que amava, ela continuava no dormitório porque não tinha mais forças para seguir em frente, havia o magoado e tudo que merecia por isso era aquele pequeno quarto que já foi um hospício. 
Ouviu batidas na porta e se surpreendeu ao ver Harry parado bem ali. Eles não disseram nada, ela apenas deu passagem para ele, que entrou. Depois de se encararem por um tempo, ele respirou fundo. 
- Sinto sua falta - ele disse por fim. 
- Eu sinto sua falta também, Harry. 
- Por que? Só me responde por que, por favor - ele implorou. 
- Harry, eu não vou me casar, desculpa por te machucar, eu me odeio por isso, sei que essa decisão te causa dor mas você vai encontrar a coisa real invés disso, ela vai consertar sua tapeçaria que eu rasguei e vai segurar sua mão enquanto dança, nunca vai te deixar lá parado e desanimado, como eu fiz e você não vai nem se lembrar de todos os meus problemas com champanhe. 
Ele pegou sua carteira do bolso, a abriu e tirou a foto de (s/n) que ficava ali. 
- Eu nunca vou te esquecer, essa foto está sempre comigo porque é uma representação física do que está no meu coração, você. 
- Harry - ela não disse nada mais do que o nome dele. 
- Eu sei que você me ama, então por quê? 
- Pelo dinheiro, pelo show, pelo que quiser acreditar, só por favor, não insista, eu já dei minha resposta.
Aquela foi a última vez que se viram. 
Até que se encontraram novamente, um anos depois, na academia em que se conheceram. Ela o viu falando com a mesma recepcionista, viu quando ele pegou a carteira e a abriu para pegar o cartão e viu uma pequena polaroid cair, ele se abaixou para pegar e quando os olhos dele se levantaram encontraram os dela. Se encararam por um tempo, então ele levantou a polaroid mostrando sua foto, ela sorriu. 
- Posso te convidar para um café? - ele perguntou e ela concordou. 
Na cafeteria próxima à academia, eles ficaram em silêncio com os sentimentos gritando. 
- Você continua linda. 
- Posso dizer o mesmo de você. 
Os dois pareciam constrangidos, a situação toda era desconcertante e tinha muitos sentimentos no ar. 
- Eu nunca estive pronta, então eu assisti você partir - ela finalmente falou. - Às vezes você simplesmente não sabe a resposta até que alguém esteja de joelhos te perguntando. 
- Não foi a resposta que eu queria ter ouvido. 
- Demorou mais do que eu queria pra entender que a resposta para aquela pergunta vinda de você deveria ter sido sim, eu passei tanto tempo odiando a ideia do casamento, sempre quis ser independente até conhecer você e me apaixonar perdidamente, eu disse para mim mesma que estava tudo bem - ela riu sem graça. - Naquele dia, sua tia disse: Ela teria sido uma noiva tão adorável, que pena que ela não tem uma cabeça boa - os dois riram. - Ela não estava errada. Eu tenho traumas, Harry. O casamento dos meus pais foi o pior que podia ser, eu era só uma criança e estava escondida no closet tentando evitar os gritos, todas aquelas brigas e o ódio que eles sentem um pelo outro até hoje acabou com qualquer resquício de sentimento bom que eles um dia tiveram um pelo outro, o casamento acabou com o respeito que tinham e eu jurei pra mim mesma, no escuro daquele closet, que eu nunca me casaria - lágrimas escorriam pelo rosto dela. - Eu entrei em pânico, Harry, eu não queria que o que tínhamos acabasse, não queria que nosso amor virasse ódio. 
- Isso nunca aconteceria, o amor que sinto por você é maior e mais intenso do que qualquer sentimento e mesmo depois de você ter partido meu coração, eu não consegui te odiar, eu tentei mas tudo que sinto por você é amor.  - ela sabia que era verdade, pois podia ver em seus olhos. 
- Eu fui uma idiota, como eu pude achar que nosso amor não era forte? 
- Sim, você foi - ele riu - mas ainda dá tempo de consertar, eu ainda quero passar o resto da minha vida com você. 
- O anel da sua mãe ainda está com você? 
Ele se levantou, estendeu a mão para ela que a pegou e a levou para fora dali até o estacionamento da academia, onde o carro dele se encontrava. Ela esperou enquanto ele procurava algo lá dentro. Harry encontrou o que procurava, parou em frente a (s/n) se ajoelhou e a mostrou o anel de sua mãe. 
- Você aceita se casar comigo, meu amor? 
- Sim - ela respondeu com um sorriso enorme no rosto. 
Ele colocou o anel em seu dedo, serviu perfeitamente, ele se levantou e a pegou em seus braços. 
- Eu te amo (s/n) e sempre vou te amar, eu prometo que nunca vou te odiar ou deixar de te amar, não vou deixar nada estragar nosso casamento, será eterno.
- Eu te amo, Harry e vou te amar para sempre.
E eles finalmente se beijaram.
49 notes · View notes
randomprose · 1 year
Text
the "tumblr community invents a whole mafia movie apparently directed by martin scorsese with an official soundtrack, movie posters, screen caps, and all enough to make one question if that movie really did exist at all like a mandela effect" was not part of my 2022 bingo card
132K notes · View notes
finelinefae · 1 month
Text
flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 
word count: 8.6k
content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 
read part 2 here
my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !
. . .
Y/N had been having a terrible week.
She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.
People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.
But this week was not fun.
The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.
Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.
It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.
Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.
So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.
Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.
"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.
She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.
The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.
The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.
Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.
The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.
She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.
"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.
She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.
"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.
He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."
The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."
His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."
She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."
"M allergic to flowers." He said.
"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.
"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.
He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.
Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.
He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."
Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."
"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.
"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.
"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.
"Yes." She nods.
"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."
She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.
"That's different."
"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.
"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.
"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."
Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."
He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.
He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."
She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.
"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.
Her entire face heats at the nickname.
***
The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.
She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.
When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.
Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.
After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.
She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.
Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.
It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.
She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.
"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.
At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.
Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.
She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.
At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.
She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.
The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.
Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.
"Excuse me please," she mumbled.
"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.
She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.
The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.
"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.
"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.
"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."
"Mine is." She said.
"What?"
"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.
His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."
"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.
"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.
Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.
Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.
"Is that your new girl Styles?"
"Nice one, H."
"Have fun Styles."
"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.
"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.
"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.
She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.
"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.
Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.
"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."
Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"
"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."
She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.
"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.
"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.
"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.
It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.
He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.
"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.
He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.
Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.
"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.
"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."
"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.
***
Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.
She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.
She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.
When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.
She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.
Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.
Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.
An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.
In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.
Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.
"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"
"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.
The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."
Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."
"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"
"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.
Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.
She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.
He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.
"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.
"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."
The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"
"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"
"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.
"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."
"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"
"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.
"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.
"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"
"He swore at me,"
"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."
"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.
"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."
"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."
"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.
"Wait, what? No."
"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."
"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.
"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."
Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.
All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."
"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.
The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.
"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.
"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.
Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.
"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.
He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."
"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."
"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.
"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.
"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.
"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."
"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.
"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.
"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.
"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.
She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.
"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.
"A-Are you sure?" 
"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 
It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 
"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 
"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 
"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"Mhm," He hummed. 
"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 
"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 
"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 
He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 
Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.
"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.
"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 
"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 
"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.
Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 
"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 
"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 
"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.
She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 
"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."
"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 
"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 
"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."
"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.
"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.
"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"
"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."
"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.
"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.
Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 
Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 
With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.
"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 
"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.
"Why?" She can't help but ask.
He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 
She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 
Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."
. . .
Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 
An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 
"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 
As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.
The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 
Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 
"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.
"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"
She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.
He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 
When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 
"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.
His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 
"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.
"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 
Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 
He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.
"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 
She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 
"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"
She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 
He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"
She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 
His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."
"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 
Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 
That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 
She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 
Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 
She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 
Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 
The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.
Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.
Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 
Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 
Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 
"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 
"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"
Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"
He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."
"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.
He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 
After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"
Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.
Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 
Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"
She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 
Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"
"A little," She huffed. 
"You're too cute." 
Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.
"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 
"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 
Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"
"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 
"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.
"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 
"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."
She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"
"Been intimate with someone." 
She smiled. 
She really, really liked him.
. . .
For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 
Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.
When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 
In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 
Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 
"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 
She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 
Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.
"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 
"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 
Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 
With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 
It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 
Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 
His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.
Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"
Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 
"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 
"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 
Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 
"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.
Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."
Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 
She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 
"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 
"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 
Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.
"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 
"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.
"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 
"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 
"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.
Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 
Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."
Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.
"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 
"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 
"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 
"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 
"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 
"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 
Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 
"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 
"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 
At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.
She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.
"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 
Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.
"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 
Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."
"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 
"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.
"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.
"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"
"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 
"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 
"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 
"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.
psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room
3K notes · View notes
gutsby · 10 days
Text
Abstaining Game
Tumblr media
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.
Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.
Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’
Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)
Tumblr media
October 26, 2024
Dear Joel,
Roses are red,
We’re a couple of sluts,
Abstinence camp is awful,
I miss you rearranging my guts.
You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.
“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”
You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.
Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.
It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.
What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.
Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.
He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.
That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.
Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.
Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:
Dear Tommy,
Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
Sincerely,
Joel
You grinned again just thinking about it.
If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.
For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?
Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.
The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.
You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.
Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:
“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”
The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.
Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.
Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.
“On your feet, skank.”
You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.
Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.
“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.
“How kind.”
“Yeah? Certain death?”
“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.
Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.
“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.
“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”
“Oh?”
Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.
“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.
Stupidly.
“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”
That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.
“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.
“Not my brother,” you hissed.
“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.
“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”
Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.
“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.
“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.
“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.
Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.
Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.
“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”
You had to stifle a laugh.
“I am not.”
“Then explain, Cersei!”
Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.
“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.
“Uh-huh.”
“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”
“Dangerous combo.”
“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”
“Right.”
“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”
Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:
“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”
“Oh shit.”
“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”
“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”
“As you should.”
“—hold that breath in right there—”
“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”
This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.
“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.
“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”
You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.
“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”
Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:
“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”
You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,
“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”
You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,
“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”
You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.
Then you felt hands.
Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.
You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.
“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.
Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?
About damn time.
Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.
“Fucker,” you hissed.
Fucker said nothing.
Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.
“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”
You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.
In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.
“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”
A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.
“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”
You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.
Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.
“Pack your shit.”
Dude.
You spun on your heels.
“DUDE!”
Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.
It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.
“Sweetheart—”
He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.
The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?
You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.
His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.
“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”
You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.
“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”
Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.
“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”
He was seriously trying to break you out?
You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.
“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.
What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.
Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.
“Joel?” You raised a brow.
“Mm?”
The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.
His gaze was alarmingly sedate.
“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”
“Just a quickie, Miller—”
“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”
The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.
Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.
It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.
“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”
Shit.
Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.
“Joel—”
“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”
Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.
But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.
“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.
“Joel, I just—”
“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”
The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.
“It was a joke.”
No time to mince words now.
“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.
He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.
��Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”
“No!”
“No?”
“No.”
For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.
Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.
“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”
When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”
With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.
“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”
You needed time to think.
“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.
But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.
“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”
His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.
Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?
You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.
“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”
You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.
“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.
“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.
You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.
At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.
His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.
Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.
“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.
This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.
Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.
But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.
You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.
You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.
Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.
Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.
Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”
Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.
The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.
It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.
Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.
Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.
Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.
“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.
You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.
Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.
“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.
Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.
Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.
“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”
When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.
“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”
Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.
“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.
But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.
You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.
“Another,” you pleaded.
“Nuh-uh.”
“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.
Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.
“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’
Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.
His expression was hard.
“Fuck my hand,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.
Fuck my hand.
Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.
“Like that,” he murmured.
All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.
It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.
“Need more,” you keened.
“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.
“Yeah.”
A beat, then:
“Tough shit.”
But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.
“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.
“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.
Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.
“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”
That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.
And pleasure.
The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.
Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.
“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.
Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,
“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”
Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.
Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.
He nodded again.
Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.
After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.
“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.
“Too much?” he returned.
You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.
“Too soon?” he tried again.
“I—”
“Too fast?”
“N—”
“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.
There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.
You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.
“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.
“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”
Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.
“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.
Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.
“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”
Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.
“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.
“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.
When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.
“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.
Joel watched you with careful eyes.
“Yeah? And Tess?”
“Joel—”
“Or Tommy.”
“I don’t—”
“Everyone else?”
Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.
Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.
In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?
You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.
Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.
“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.
“But you did,” you panted.
Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.
Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.
He was a lot like you in that way.
You kept kissing him anyway.
The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.
All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.
“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.
You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.
In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.
“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.
“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”
Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’
You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.
Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.
Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.
“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”
Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’
Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.
He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.
Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.
“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.
“You do?”
“Uh-huh.”
His face softened.
“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”
He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.
“Say that you’re mine.”
No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.
Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?
The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.
The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.
It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.
Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.
His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.
He kissed your hairline and hummed.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”
His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.
“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.
He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,
“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”
“But—”
“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”
His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.
“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.
You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.
“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.
He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.
You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.
Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.
Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:
“Joel!”
“That’s right.”
Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.
“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.
You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’
Oh.
Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.
Your legs were wet.
The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.
You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.
You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.
Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?
“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.
You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.
In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.
Where was that wetness coming from?
You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—
“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.
Your first instinct was to make a face.
That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?
“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.
Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.
“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”
Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.
Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.
Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.
“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”
You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.
And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.
Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.
“‘M’sorry,” he said.
Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,
“You did great.”
He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.
“So good.”
When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.
“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”
“What?”
Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.
“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”
At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.
He didn’t.
The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.
“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”
You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.
“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”
Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.
“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”
Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.
Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.
You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.
But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.
“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.
“No!”
“I’m not—”
“He’s from the other camp.”
“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”
You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.
“I’m—we’re—” he started.
“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”
She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.
But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.
Then laugh.
Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.
Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.
“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.
“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.
Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.
“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:
“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”
Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.
And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.
“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”
1K notes · View notes
cupid-styles · 24 days
Text
daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
Tumblr media
she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)
part one
word count: 7.9k
content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours. 
But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.
Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor. 
Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office. 
On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.
It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.
It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.
And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.
The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name. 
“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."
She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery. 
She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.
“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.
“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”
She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in. 
“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”
“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”
His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.
“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”
They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence. 
But she can’t help herself. 
“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”
Harry’s nostrils flare. 
“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”
He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with. 
But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?
“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”
He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way. 
“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out. 
A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to. 
“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips. 
But instead, he stops. 
A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes. 
“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”
I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains. 
“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”
He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.
“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”
. . .
Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated. 
In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing. 
She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead. 
When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile. 
A smile.
“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body. 
“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag. 
That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.
As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed. 
And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.
“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”
Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals. 
“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.
When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”
As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.
“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”
Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox. 
“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”
Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.
. . . 
“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft. 
Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down. 
“We are,” he says softly. 
“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed. 
“What do you mean?”
Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater. 
“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”
Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.
“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”
She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it. 
And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.
“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”
She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”
“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.
The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?” 
His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time. 
“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”
She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers. 
. . .
Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx. 
Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.
And there’s still three months left of the semester.
Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.
But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.
It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:
can’t stop thinking about your lips
oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??
It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.
Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.
Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess. 
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him. 
“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”
She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.” 
“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office. 
“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”
They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be? 
Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles. 
“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male. 
He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”
“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.” 
He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather. 
It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket. 
“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”
“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”
“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”
Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods. 
“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”
“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” 
With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared? 
Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically. 
“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?” 
“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”
His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation. 
“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“You live alone?”
She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.
“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”
“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”
Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”
Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime. 
“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”
“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”
His throat bobs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”
He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”
He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment. 
“Well now I have to know.”
“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”
“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”
Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”
“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”
“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”
“Strawberry, actually.”
He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”
Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”
“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”
She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”
“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road. 
“I’m right over there.” 
Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him. 
“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly. 
“Of course.”
They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car. 
“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”
He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?
But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.
“Can I come inside, then?”
. . .
Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be. 
She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.
“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming. 
“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”
Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”
“Tea is good, sweetheart.”
The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.
“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.
He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”
“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”
“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”
She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.
“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.” 
Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile. 
“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”
He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”
She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”
“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?”
He sends her a knowing look and she grins. 
“You know what I mean, Y/N.”
“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”
He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”
“I know, but—”
“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”
He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway. 
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”
“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust. 
This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games. 
“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”
He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze. 
“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 
“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”
“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”
She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she���s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up. 
But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy. 
When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.
And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.
“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane. 
“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. 
He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest. 
“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.” 
He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips. 
“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.
“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising. 
“Harry— oh my god—”
“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”
If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above. 
“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly. 
“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”
That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression. 
“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips. 
“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”
Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?” 
“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck. 
She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?” 
“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.” 
“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”
“That’s perfectly okay.” 
Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length. 
“You look big.” She admits. 
He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip. 
“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?” 
This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.” 
“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 
Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”
“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.” 
“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.” 
She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it. 
“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.” 
“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”
She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze. 
“Do you really think it’ll fit?”
“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“
“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”
Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts. 
Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter. 
“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“ 
“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”
“Too much?”
She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”
“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down. 
With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her. 
“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”
She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes. 
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic. 
She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach. 
He thinks he may pass out. 
Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap. 
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock. 
“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her. 
“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?” 
“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully. 
He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them. 
“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.” 
That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent. 
When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her. 
“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.
Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”
“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”
“Please.”
His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair. 
They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat. 
And then: “So you envisioned this?”
She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”
Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.
1K notes · View notes
stylessbean · 2 months
Text
Harry Styles Fic Recs: Smut
------------ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓🍒🍄 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ------------
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for 200 followers! Here is the long-awaited smut fic rec masterlist so I hope y'all enjoy 😏😏
Last Updated: 7/02/2024
Series
Personal by @shawnxstyles
Only Angel by @cupid-styles
Blacking out and breaking hearts (slowburn!) by @dont-call-me-baby-posts
teach me by @freedomfireflies
office neighbours (another slowburn) by @atlafan
baby honey by @narrycherries
One Shots
Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on by @guardarecheluna
private show by @stylesharrys
the long weekend by @gurugirl
tentmate by @purplekiwis
moans and elevator music by @pleasingforharry
manbun by @eveningepiphany
just friends that f*ck by @1800titz
don't stop by @justlemmeadoreyou
the pact by @harryslittlefreakk
intimacy by @goldengalore
rough day by @goldengalore
Y/N and Harry have been on a dry spell, but then they fuck by @jawllines
short straw by @adorebeaa
learn to knock by @eveningepiphany
bound together by @harrysonlylover
overheard by @0nlythrowharrybeaux
2K notes · View notes
lilystyles · 4 months
Text
style.
Tumblr media
written by @lilystyles
my masterlist xx & style masterlist
authors note inspired by a dream i had about this boy HAHAHA so filthy but that's just him. (also i'm sorry if ur names emma! if it is it's still cute to be best friends w ur name twin :3) ALSO it's also inspired by style (taylor's version)!
brief description y/n has had a crush on harry since they were kids but he’s off-limits. him being her best friend’s brother and all she has never made a move, knowing emma wouldn’t approve. but lines are blurred one night and she doesn’t know if she can follow the rules like a good girl.
warnings! slight age gap, SMUT (m!receiving, fingering, daddy kink, choking, missionary, doggy) sexual tension, mentions of drugs and alcohol abuse. wordcount: [around 11.4k words, also unedited sorry:(]
fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader
* * * * *
Y/n wished she didn’t fancy him. Oh, she wished it so badly.
On every shooting star or eyelash, she had to decide whether she would wish to forget him or for him to finally notice her, it was a constant tug of war between the two.
Honestly, there were so many things going against him. He was completely unavailable to her and she wondered if that’s why she wanted him most. People always say you want what you can’t have. He was older than her by a few years, he was hardly much wiser but liked to act as if he was. 
Or maybe was it just that he was a total prick most of the time, like seriously, so mean? 
She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly attracted her to Harry the most. She knew why others liked him, it was because he was so fucking pretty you just wanted to cry. He was that kind of person. And obviously, she had noticed that slight minor detail. 
She could agree that was one of the many reasons she had a massive crush on him. But she’d known him for years before he was this fuckboy fratboy who wore backward caps with the body of a Greek god and the filthiest mouth you’d ever heard. She knew him before it all. She knew him when he was just her best friend’s goofy older brother, and she’d liked him then too. Before he was smooth and his words had a sting, when he was just this little giggly loud guy.
She thinks to herself often that a piece of her would always belong to him, even if he didn’t know that. She had tried to like other boys, many many times, and though she did like them she didn’t feel even a smidge like how she felt when she saw Harry. The best way for her to describe being with someone who wasn’t Harry was like being in a state of complete darkness, only this dull twinkle of stars without any moon, and then suddenly the sun came up, all these colours painting the sky as it rose. Harry was the sun for her and those boys were just the stars.
Nearly all the time she wished for a distraction from him but that was hard considering he was always around, Y/n saw him every time she went to their house it was like totally unavoidable. They ran into each other at parties even though he was a few years older, it didn’t matter now they that all went to Uni together. She saw him everywhere! Even when she closed her eyes at night.
So tonight when she went out with Emma she was relieved and sad all at once that he wasn’t at the party, it meant she let loose more than she usually did, completely free of the worry of his judgments. She had a few shots but not enough to get her as wasted as Emma was. They danced and sang, and enjoyed themselves. Exams had been stressful and they needed a fun night, they’d spent months cooped up in the library using flashcards and reading the big textbooks. Y/n needed some time away from her laptop screen and desk. She needed to wear a tight dress, get flirted with, have some drinks and relax. She needed to fucking let loose. 
She worked so hard and she was enjoying just forgetting all her worries, Harry included, for a few hours. Sweating and dancing to trashy music was something she had been dreaming of since the start of exam season.
However, the night had taken a slightly sour turn later in the evening when Emma took a few too many tequila shots in a row and spewed down herself, covering her pink dress and shoes and some of Y/n’s shoes too, in sick. She wished she could say this wasn’t a recurring thing but Emma always took it a little too hard on nights out especially when her brooding older brother wasn’t there to help team with Y/n and wrangle her home.
It wasn’t too late probably only midnight, which usually meant they were only just getting started on their drunken shenanigans. But Y/n had to admit she was okay with going home, home being Emma’s place she was roommates with Harry, they were fairly close siblings and their parents felt better knowing they were together. Y/n desperately wanted some water, maybe a snack and to lie down in Emma’s comfortable bed.
As she was trying to find an Uber during the busiest time and hold Emma up from collapsing onto the floor a familiar Irish voice filled Y/n’s ears. She snapped her head around. Oh, thank god.
“Babe! Where are you two off to?” 
Y/n turned, “Niall! Hey, we are going home. Emma isn’t feeling too well.”
Y/n had managed to clean most of the spew off in one of the bathrooms at the Uni share house the party was being thrown at, but Emma was all wet from being wiped down and Y/n knew she needed to get her home like now. She was fading and needed her bed and a bottle of water in her, she wasn’t particularly worried but she would feel better if Harry was with her in case something happened.
“D’ya want a lift? I haven’t drunk anything I’m on my way to Paddy’s place,” He said. He looked very sober.
Paddy was his most recent fling. 
“You are a gem, I could kiss you!” Y/n said squeezing his bicep in thanks.
Y/n was eternally grateful for him being her saviour, she slid Emma into the backseat and clipped her into the seatbelt, brushing the hair from her eyes. Even with sick all over she was still pretty, Y/n envied that the Styles family had such good genes it was ridiculous. They always looked gorgeous, Anne had created three beautiful children.
Niall knew where to go since he was friends with Harry too and Emma and Y/n of course.
Y/n kept checking through the mirror to make sure she was okay and when she saw the familiar home she sighed in relief at the sight. It was this fairly small duplex but their neighbours were nice and the house was one of Harry’s parent’s properties. So they had it pretty good for Uni students. Y/n was living in a big share-house with a bunch of other people. She wished she was this lucky.
She grabbed all their purses, jackets and keys before she kissed Niall on the cheek in thanks. 
“Love you, Babe. Have fun with Paddy!” She winked, knowing Niall really liked this new guy.
Niall blushed a nice rosy colour. “Need any help getting her in?” He asked diverting the conversation.
Y/n shook her head and the two girls stumbled to the front door. Emma was slightly more awake now, her arms slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making the straps of her dress fall as Y/n hunted for the keys in Emma’s little clutch. Y/n had a key to their house for emergencies and she knew where they hid a spare, but she wasn’t going to hunt around in the dark for it.
The door opened before she found them in the clutch which had ten lipsticks that she was rummaging through.
His eyes were so green she felt like they were glowing in the dark. He didn’t say anything he just grabbed Emma and helped her inside. Whispering something to her kindly as Y/n made her way inside behind them. She toed her shoes off before she entered, not wanting to bring Emma’s sick in any more than it already would be. 
Y/n sighed shutting the door behind her as she placed all their things in Emma’s room down the hall. Harry had put her on the bed and was taking her heels off for her. He was a good brother. He was protective over both his sisters even though Gemma was the oldest.
“She always goes to fucking far,” He muttered more to himself than Y/n. Who was finding Emma’s sleep clothes in her bedside drawers, knowing she couldn’t sleep in the sick-covered ones. 
He didn’t sound annoyed at her or angry, just worried. He was a prick sure, but he cared about his family and friends. His small circle is what mattered most to him. Y/n knew his gruff and broody presence was the exterior of a very gentle soul. When he was at home drinking tea in pyjamas that was the real Harry, not some douchebag.
But she knew that he had a reputation for being a heartbreaker and a lot of people would warn you of him. But Y/n didn’t think that was the real him.
Y/n nodded in agreement, tiredly pushing the hair from her eyes she wanted to tie it up it was sweaty from dancing. 
“It’s okay, Niall helped me,” Y/n spoke softly as he stood up from the floor where he’d sat to take her shoes off. He was so much taller than Y/n, his face finally looking at hers now. She felt heat prickle up her back, and the hairs stand on her neck. 
He had such an intense stare.
“I knew I should’ve come,” He said. “I worry when you two are alone.”
Two? She thought. He’d never really shown much protectiveness on his end over her, except when guys were being gross at bars or parties. Then he would give them a stern look and tell them to fuck off. But he did that for anyone, Y/n knew that she wasn’t special. She always felt like Emma was his priority always and he didn’t care what she did as long as Y/n got Emma home safe.
It was almost like he could hear her thoughts. “I don’t like when either of you go without me. The stories Emma has told me about what they say to you Y/n, makes me feel sick honestly.”
She despised the way her stomach flipped. She was about to say that she managed okay without him. But his hand slid onto her shoulder pulling the little spaghetti strap back up over her shoulder. 
She felt breathless but tried to snap back into her usual self. Feeling more pink than usual, Harry always seemed to have that effect on her.
“I- do your frat friends know how much of a softie you are deep down? Be careful now, Styles, I might go around telling them how nice you secretly are. Ruin that scary reputation of yours.”
He smirked in amusement, Y/n had this ability to melt away that hard shell, stripping him bare to his true self. He hated and loved it all at once, he felt like she saw right through him. Even when people said mean things about him, Y/n never wavered and sometimes even defended him. The only thing she didn’t approve of was his restlessness towards women. He felt one was never enough, and was quite open about that with his hookups. Maybe he just didn’t have the right one.
He left after that so Y/n could get Emma ready for bed. He was pottering about in the kitchen and making tea, she assumed. That was his late-night ritual usually.
Y/n shook Emma awake enough so she could help Y/n a little to get her into some pyjamas. She even got her make-up wipes out and removed all the makeup on Emma’s face and tucked her into bed.
Y/n sighed tiredly at the effort of it all and felt sobered up almost completely now. Emma had the downstairs bathroom to herself usually, it was very clean in there. Y/n decided to take a shower and wash the sick smell off her skin and the sweat from the clubs and the dirty Uni sharehouse. 
She washed her hair, face and body. Emma had a lot of really sweet expensive-smelling products, but Y/n had her own little section for when she stayed over. It was all coconut-scented. She felt herself begin to droop in fatigue when she finished cleaning herself. She got the last of the makeup the water hadn’t washed off and changed into a random shirt from Emma’s drawer and some fresh knickers from Y/n’s things she’d left here.
Y/n was here more than she was at her own house. Emma always said she’d kick Harry out and let Y/n take his place, but Y/n knew the siblings actually got on rather well. When Y/n was dressed for sleep she blow-dried her hair on the lowest setting so she wouldn’t wake Emma up, but Emma could probably sleep through an earthquake she was a really deep sleeper. Then she plugged both their phones in and slid in beside Emma tiredly. She shut her eyes and turned off the fairy lights Emma had kept on, ready to lull off.
Y/n had been friends with Emma since they were little they’d all grown up together in Holmes Chapel and it was the kind of place you were just friends with everyone because it was so small but Y/n had always been closest with the Styles family. They lived down the street from each other and Emma and Y/n were never seen without each other. So Harry was used to having Y/n around a lot too. 
Growing up he had to make sure nothing happened to them, he was in charge but it was usually Emma giving him trouble Y/n was always a sweetheart, but she had a quick mouth with one-liners that almost knocked him over. He liked that about her, she was sweet but could challenge him feistily without much thought. He’d met his match when it came to arguments.
Often when the parents went away Y/n would be over and Gemma and Harry would have to make sure neither of them got up to anything wild. But it was usually just a sleepover that consisted of them laughing until dawn. Harry was a much lighter sleeper so he would always tell them to shut up. 
Harry woke up to the sound of a pin dropping rooms away, he didn’t know how his sister could snore like a freight train and sleep through herself. He also didn’t know how Y/n could share a bed with her. Sometimes he’d get up in the middle of the night for a wee or some water and would find Y/n on the couch with a pillow over her face trying to block out the noise of Emma’s snoring. 
So when he heard Y/n roaming about in the kitchen (he knew it was her because he could still hear Emma snoring) he pretended to need some water, wanting to see her. It was probably around 3 AM but he had been unable to sleep. And they hadn’t talked much when she got home. He had wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but he knew better. She had worn a dress that hugged all her features, it was black and simple. Hair done naturally, and makeup that was subtle but just made her that tiny bit more pretty. She always looked pretty though.
He came down the stairs from his room and walked into the kitchen. Y/n was using the fridge as a light to find things. She was making tea by the looks of things. She found some of the chamomile that she used every night, in turn, Harry added it to the weekly grocery list in case she slept the night there, and hadn’t heard him creep downstairs. 
She was in a big baggy dusty blue shirt that Harry actually thought was one Emma had stolen from him, and a pair of soft pink cotton knickers that were very small. Socks covered her feet making her practically silent. He stepped closer into the kitchen waiting for her to turn around and notice him. 
She was trying to be very quiet in every step, knowing Harry was a very light sleeper, and not wanting to wake him. When she finally did look over her shoulder her body jolted in fright dropping the box of teabags onto the floor and a hand falling to her chest. 
“Jesus, H.” She whispered, raspily. 
He let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, Lovie.”
She squinted in the dark trying to see him. His hair looked messy like he’d been sleeping and he was just in some boxers as PJs. He ran hot in the night.
“Did I wake you?” She asked a guilty look crossing her face. Her eyes softened as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
He shook his head. “Nah. ‘Aven’t been sleeping well.”
She frowned, not liking the sound of that. She didn’t know why she cared, but she did. “Do you want a tea?”
He smiled, dimples showing. “Yes please.”
She brewed two as he whispered the truth about why he didn’t come out with them tonight. He was originally supposed to, and honestly, she had been slightly disappointed about it. Knowing she’d have to handle Emma alone.
But he told her why, in a soft hushed voice. A few guys in his friendship group had said some really mean things to Harry. Not realising he would feel them so deeply, she thought, they must think he was as mean as he seems. He told the story like he wasn’t phased by the mean comments, but Y/n could tell they had gotten to him. She knew better than his cold stone face.
“Alex said ‘I was a homewrecking prick and womanizer’.” He explained when Y/n asked what the boys had said about him. He heard a hint of protectiveness in her voice when she asked with a pinched face, and he felt a tug in his lower tummy. Why did she care?
Y/n looked up from the mugs at him. The dim lighting of the fridge meant she could only see the outline of his body and the shadows of his features. She saw a glimpse of his eyes, and she could see the look in his eyes. He believed them, he believed those comments. They were glassy with discontentment.
Her eyebrows were pinched in empathy, and she was about to speak but he cut her off. “I know I’m a total prick sometimes, but—”
She interrupted him, “—You are a prick sometimes, but people who really know you know what you're like.” She tried to reason with him. Because she wasn’t going to deny sometimes he would be just plain rude to her, and to others as well. But she also knew he did a lot of nice things too. He had a hard exterior and shied off people easily, if you didn’t know him well he would seem rude. But all his close friends and family knew that he was just standoffish with new people. And loved to tease, and was brutally honest, which Y/n had to admit sometimes that hurt more than the teasing comments. 
But he did nice things. Wonderful things, that he went out of his way to do. Like helped his sister when she was drunk, drove people home so they wouldn’t have to walk in the dark after parties, picked Y/n up from the library at midnight if she was too scared to walk home, bought chamomile tea in case Y/n spent the night, made enough dinner in case Y/n was hungry, visited the girls when they were studying with snacks and coffee, and he even helped sometimes if they were confused on work. He called his Mum every day without fail and sent his Grandma photos of birds when he saw them. 
He baked a new type of cookie recipe every Sunday and gave it to his friends. He adopted stray cats and played Scrabble with his grandparents every few weekends.
Yes, he was a prick, he said mean things and made fun of Y/n when she went on dates with idiots, and he called her names, filthy ones. And sometimes he would barely acknowledge her. But she knew there was a different reason for that, something she didn’t understand. Something between just the two of them. She thought maybe it was just a way for him to protect his sensitive side from people. From her too, hide himself away.
And yes, he did have sex with lots of people, but he did always tell people the truth before getting involved with anyone. He was honest, and open when it came to his boundaries. Y/n thought that was better than lying and acting like you wanted a relationship just so you can fuck someone. She wasn’t saying she approved of Harry’s constant line of girls coming over, maybe that was her jealousy talking, but she wasn’t going to judge him for doing what lots of people did and owning that he did it. He would never kiss and tell, he was respectful and clear with his intentions. What more could you ask of a fuck buddy or one-night stand? If you wanted a good shag no strings attached Harry was your guy, and surely most people knew from the rumours? She just didn’t understand why people put themself in that position if they knew what they were getting into with him.
He wasn’t a devious person who hid behind a mask of fake sincerity to get in your pants. He was blunt, he asked if you wanted to fuck and if you didn’t that was fine. He wasn’t picky with it either he just liked to have a good time.
She felt differently about being with a person. She usually only wanted to be with someone she had an emotional connection with. But she had a smaller level of experience than Harry, so she thought that maybe she was coming from the point of view of a less experienced person. But the point remained, Harry had his flaws, like anyone but he was good at his core. His intentions remained good. No one is perfect, and she knew Harry was far from it but so was everyone she knew!
She knew her flaws too. Flaws made people human. And she appreciated him despite it all.
“And what is that?” He was standing closer now and she felt suddenly very aware of the fact she was only in knickers and a shirt her nipples could be seen through. The way he was staring her down made her aware of her appearance, he looked almost hungry.
“Well as someone who’s known you for as long as I can remember. You’re kind, honest, open, and a good person with a rotten mouth.” She looked away from him as she spoke, flushed by his close presence. She tried not to stumble on her words but was struggling and honestly felt her hands tremble when she felt his breath hit her neck.
“Kind?” He scoffed eyes trained on her face, it was free of makeup. Her lips looked pouty and her eyes droopy in tiredness. She looked perfect. She always did. Even that one week during the bleak middle of winter when she had been sick as a dog; red nose, glassy eyes, snotty and nasally, hair unwashed, skin red, she’d looked beautiful.
“Harry,” She said his name meaning she was serious, she usually called him anything but, “these fucking friends of yours clearly don’t see you like we do.”
“We?”
She leaned back against the drawers sighing, “We. Me, Emma, Niall, Gem, Anne. People who know you, people who love you.”
“You love me?” He teased. 
She rolled her eyes. Of course, that’s what he got from that. He was so annoying.  
“You’re alright.” She replied, they both knew she did, handing him the tea. He said a quiet thanks.
He placed it back down, where Y/n was letting hers cool. The face she had made smile only seconds prior melted back to a stoic look, more serious.
He hugged her and Y/n was surprised, but she wrapped her arms around him. He pulled back when he started to get intoxicated on her sweet scent, her skin smelt edible and her hair was soft against his cheek.
“I’m sorry if I’m a prick to you.”
Y/n didn’t mean to but she laughed. A giggle bubbled from her tummy out of her mouth her as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“What?” He said, fighting back the smile that threatened to tug on his lips. It was contagious. He was trying to keep his attention very far from her chest.
She didn’t know what made her say it but, but she told him the truth. “I like it. It's like a game we have. A Harry and Y/n one. I tease you, you tease me. You act like I don’t exist most of the time and I act like I don’t care. You’re mean to me and I let you be.”
Hearing her say it out loud was kind of like being winded. It had always been their game, a game neither mentioned, some sort of unspoken thing they shared. 
She could tell he was kind of speechless. 
“I don’t know why I let you.” Now that was a lie. She was trying to backtrack. 
“I do.” He said stepping closer. His bare legs were pressing into hers. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to tell her. But he didn’t.
“You gonna tell me?” She said quietly, eyes widely looking up into his, as his hands rested on either side of her on the bench. He leaned in closely. So they were eye to eye.
She was trapped in his arms and had nowhere to look but at him, she squirmed under his smouldering eyes.
“You know why too.”
She didn’t speak. What did any of this mean? She had waited a long time to hear him apologise for being a dick to her, and he just did and she’d told him that she liked him treating her that way. What she meant was, that she liked him, she let him treat her that way because for Harry she would do anything. She didn’t care if that made her pathetic, at least she knew it was, at least she could admit it. I mean, wouldn’t you let him treat you like shit under his shoe if it meant he was at least looking at you with those gorgeous eyes? Could hardly blame the girl.
“Why did you have to meet Emma before you met me?” He almost whined with a soft scoff. As if complaining at fate’s hands for dealing them these cards.
She felt her heart rate speed up. 
“What do you mean?” She asked, playing dumb. He was talking so much and she was practically drunk on his sultry voice. It was so deep and she just wanted to hold onto the sound forever and feel it melt into her spine like it was now, and listen when she wanted to sink into a state of lust.
He lifted one of his arms and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Then she’d be the one who has to follow my rules, and stay away from you. I could be the one in control. Have you all to myself. No sharing.”
Y/n licked her drying lips, as she processed his words. He wanted her all to himself? “Wait, wait, she has a rule to stay away from me?”
Y/n knew Emma didn’t like it when her friends slept with Harry, it was just weird and they would always complain about how mean he was after, or even try and talk about how good he was in bed. She just didn’t like her friends dating or having anything to do with Harry period. But she assumed it was different for Y/n since she knew Harry pretty well and would consider him someone in her close circle. Even if he did ignore her a lot. She assumed she was fine with Harry and Y/n at least being friends. Y/n had bottled all her feelings away for years, she didn’t think that would ever change. Even if Harry liked her back, she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise their friendship.
“You’re her friend, not mine.” He said, mocking Emma’s tone, making his voice all squeaky and high-pitched.
Y/n frowned. Emma had always been weird about this. She could understand to some extent, but sometimes Y/n wished she could just have a normal conversation with Harry. “Why can’t we be friends? I’ve known you my whole life, and haven’t slept with you. I think I should be allowed to have a conversation with you. I think I can handle that without pulling my pants down.”
Harry’s lips kicked up in a smirk, “You aren’t wearin’ any pants.”
“Oh shut up.” She replied cheeks bleeding pink.
“She trusts you.” Harry said trying to make Y/n feel better, “She just doesn’t trust me.”
Y/n smiled at that, trying to lighten the mood once again. “Who would? I mean this with respect, but you are a bit of a slut.” Her hand came up to play with the cross on his neck.
He giggled, “I simply enjoy myself openly. You should try, Y/n, it’s fun bein’ bad.”
She felt her cheeks warm further, “I can be bad,” Y/n argued but it was no use.
“Oh thas’ such a lie, Baby.” He laughed at her statement rolling his eyes, and Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname. He’d never called her that before and it brought a rose colour to her cheeks that Harry adored on her. She was so easy to make nervous. But he didn’t think anyone was as good at it as he was.
“It’s not,” She pouted. 
He cocked his head in challenge. “Name one naughty thing you’ve done then. Bet y’cant.”
She tried to think, that growing up she was relatively good and even now she hardly participated in much other than seeing Emma or Niall and studying. But she felt this urge to impress him, make him proud almost. Or at least shock him.
“I stole a lolly once.”
Harry found a smile slipping onto his face, he’d always seen Y/n as a fairly innocent person. And she was, for the most part. Soft and sweet in real life, like a bunny or puppy. So soft, and you just want to pick her up and put her in your arms and tell her how cute she is. But she had some mischievousness to her, like all people. Something buried underneath her innocent aura, Harry thought of that side of her often pondering what she was like when she wasn’t hiding and she’d been cracked open raw and teased beyond return.
“Oh yeah? Anything else?”
She tried to think of what would shock him but she fell flat. Until—but no she couldn’t say that, it way was too personal. 
“I can see you thinking very hard, c’mon tell me.” He whispered. Y/n shut her eyes. His voice sent shivers down her spine.
Fuck it. It was like she had no control over her mouth, the filth just slipped right out of her pouty lips. She wanted to blame the alcohol, but it was probably just his voice that had her feeling intoxicated.
“Sometimes when I touch myself I think of you.”
Harry practically froze, his lips opening to show he was indeed very surprised to hear that. There was a beat and Y/n didn’t know if she regretted it or not. She was about to tell him it was a joke and run for her life. Change her name, and move to Mexico. Her Duolingo lessons weren’t going to be enough to get by, she’d have to start really learning how to speak properly now.
Until. 
“What do you think about, Y/n?”
She felt herself getting hot, she’d really fucked herself here. He would never let this go. Call it the tequila but Y/n wasn’t lying. Truthfully the only thing that got her off was Harry, she couldn’t cum unless his green eyes flashed in her vision. Which she did feel bad about like she was a pervert. But believe that she’d tried to think of others, or watching porn. But she could only ever think of him. Otherwise, it wasn’t as good, and she didn’t get the release she was chasing.
“A lot of filthy things, H.”
He bit his lip, “Like what?”
He could sense her getting shy once more as she crossed her arms and looked at her feet, cheeks all pink and pinchable. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Baby, whatever you’ve touched your lil’ clit too I’ve probably stroked m’cock too.”
Y/n was surprised, head snapping up at his words, and though he was normally very honest even he seemed a bit more nervous to admit it. He was just as bad as her. And he had such a filthy mouth, but that was not a surprise to her. She was just surprised he thought of her, she never saw herself as particularly desirable. She always imagined Harry to like those people who look good running in slow motion.
It took a lot of courage as she began to speak. “I usually think about you…fucking my throat, using my mouth however you like. I like the idea of those hands pulling on m’hair.”
Harry felt his pants twitch. His expression and dark eyes egged her on to continue. He didn’t know she was such a little minx. He’d always imagine her to like soft, gentle caresses. Which wouldn’t have bothered him, though he was fairly kinky, but he would’ve done whatever she liked.
She didn’t know if he would like this but she felt brave, “Like the idea of calling you Daddy….Want to be good f’you, Daddy.”
That’s what made Harry unable to keep his hands by his sides. He grabbed her face forcing her to look into his eyes. 
“Wanna be good?”
She nodded coyly, eyes wide. His hands were warm and she practically melted into them.
“Sleep upstairs tonight then.” He didn’t ask her, he simply instructed her. And who was she to say no? 
She nodded once again and he patted her lower back as if to say off you go then. She listened and walked slowly in front of him. She felt his presence close by, the sweet citrus and woodsy scent that followed him was right by her nose and she could hear his slow calm breaths.
Her beating heart was thumping against her chest and she wondered how it didn’t fill the quiet house (besides Emma’s window-rattling snores).
He noticed her shaky and anxious energy and his hand slipped onto her waist. “I jus’ wanna hear about y’dreams somewhere comfier, Petal, if thas’ all yeh’ want that’s all we’ll do. Plus I’m saving y’from m’lumpy couch.”
She couldn’t complain about that. 
As they walked inside she was welcomed to the scent of Harry, she’d only been in Harry’s room a few times, but never properly. He ushered her to the bed and she sat down tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin. Examining the walls of famous singers and art that covered it. In the corner by his desk where the only source of light in his room was a glowing lamp, other than some fairy lights above his bed, was a little picture wall.
In the mess of polaroids and film, she saw one of Y/n, Emma and Harry when the two girls had graduated school. He was between them arms around their shoulders and looking to his left at Y/n who was laughing happily with Emma at Gemma who made some joke about something. Y/n knew the picture instantly because it was one of her favourites of him.
“What else, Baby?” He said softly sitting in front of her, interrupting her thoughts of that day when he’d driven home to visit them for it, and looked over to see him leaning against the headboard, arms interlocked behind his head. 
“You go.” She said, which made Harry laugh.
“I’m pretty filthy Honey, you know me. I don’t know if it’ll be something you like.”
She looked at him stubbornly. “Try me.”
He shut his eyes and only now did she see he was nervous too, “I often find myself thinking about you on your tummy, underneath me, letting me stuff you full while my hands pin yours to your back so that you’re at my mercy.”
She liked that, her tummy twisted in yerning. “I’d like you to be in charge. Help me forget.”
He was looking at her like she was the sweetest most edible thing. “Can I kiss you?”
She nodded and he placed his hands in her hair, kissing her softly at first just a whisper of a touch of two mouths moulding into one. She leaned in further into the warmth of him and hugged her arms around his broad shoulders as the kiss began to deepen, he tasted like a hint of beer and minty toothpaste. Her chest burned with what only could be described as Harry. 
He moaned into her mouth softly, sighing at the taste of her sweet tea-soaked lips. The warmth of her curves pressing into him was comforting, and though he had a desire to completely ruin her until she was crying his name, he liked taking it slow and enjoying this first kiss with her. Exploring her mouth, teasing his tongue against hers, and soft hands roaming up and down her back. 
He rubbed her back under the soft shirt, no bra strap blocking his gentle scratches. She arched into his touch.
After all, he’d been dreaming of it for years and he wanted to take his time, even though he was crazy for her and felt this deep animalistic desire, he was gentle with her. Like she could break if he was too rough.
The kiss began to pick up as she slid into his lap, and he encouraged her to rub against his bare thigh. She ground against his tiger tattoo and he could feel the wetness between her thighs leaking onto him already. She moved slowly and uncertainly, his hands moved from her shoulders down to her hips forcefully moving her against him creating friction that made her create a soft whiney noise in the back of her throat. He swallowed the sounds eagerly.
He pulled his lips away breathlessly and dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, kissing sucking and biting wherever he could. Her skin was soft and she smelt like coconuts and something that was just her. He would’ve eaten her whole if he could. She let out soft breaths and sighs, her hips had stopped moving — too distracted by his magical lips. 
He stopped to look at her. Really looking.
Her lips were more red, almost like she’d been nibbling on them, and they were all swollen from his kissing. Her cheeks were dusted in a warm pink. Eyes wild and doe-eyed looking up at him. She was picturesque. He wanted to remember her like this forever and be able to come back to this moment at any time. He soaked it in, hoping to remember.
“You seriously are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” He said softly running his big hands through her messy hair. His rings were cool on her skin.
“Harry, don’t.” She said bringing her hands to cover her blushing face.
He sighed. “I’m sorry for not telling you every second of every day.”
“Don’t lie, H. I’ve seen the girls you fancy.”
“Only ever fancied you.” He said his hands grabbing hers and moving them away she looked at him, shocked. “Only ever look for your face in a crowd, Baby.”
She didn’t know what to say so she kissed him and he moaned softly when she rubbed herself against him. He was getting harder and harder with each movement until eventually she stopped and moved away. 
“Can I suck you off?” She asked, and the filth was shocking to hear from her soft voice and lips.
He nodded hand stroking her cheek. “Yeah, ‘course.”
She moved down to her tummy between his thighs and looked up at him. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She whispered. 
He laughed softly, there she was, there was his Y/n. “Thas’ okay, Love, I’ll teach you.”
She slid her hand up his thigh and her fingers found their way into the waistband of his boxers and began to tug them down when he gave her a nod of approval. His stiff dick sprung out against his tummy, and he was completely naked for her. The head of his cock was oozing precum and it dripped down to his balls. Even his dick was pretty. Which she should’ve expected.
It had a blush-coloured tip similar to the shade of his lips, he was veiny and long. So long that he reached his belly button. He was girthy too and as she moved her hand to wrap around it, he hissed at the contact, and she almost dropped her jaw at the fact her fingers weren’t touching. He smirked down at her.
Her reaction was boosting his ego in just the right way.
“You alright down there, Petal?”
She nodded, her lips grazing against his now throbbing cock. He ached for her. The sight of the swell of her ass and plush thighs was making him very needy. 
And to the surprise of them both she pursed her lips and spat down onto his dick. She was basically drooling all over him, it leaked down over the length of him coating his prick and he practically whimpered at the sight — it was one of his dreams. She then took him into her mouth and began to suck and lick, slowly taking him deeper and deeper. 
His hands had slipped into her hair holding it back from her face and he was letting out loud gravelly moans and sighs of pleasure. He was trying to stop his hips from rolling up into her throat. Her mouth was so deliciously warm and tight against him, he felt like a man deprived of water near a watering hole. Her tongue glided around swirling and sucking and teasing the tip of him. When she began to fondle his balls as well, gently massaging them, he let out a particularly loud whiney noise. She popped out off of him. 
“Shh, don’t wanna wake Emma up.” She said before dripping another trickle of spit onto him and continuing her fast and merciless pace on him. 
“Can’t help it, when you take me like that. S’fucking good.” He said, as his hips jutted into her throat roughly, without realising. “Shit, fuck, sorry,” He said hearing her throat gag on him.
She just went deeper onto him, until her nose was tickled by the snail trail on his tummy. Pulling back when all her breath had gone. She hardly needed to be taught.
She took deep breaths of air and stroked him slowly in her hand, he was panting at her touch. 
“You can use my throat however y’like, Daddy.” She said, voice all raw from his cock having stuffed it just seconds ago, before going back down onto him.
“Just tap m’leg if you need me to stop,” He said and she nodded making a noise around him. His hands pulled her hair up away from her eyes. “sucha’ good fuckin’ girl.” He said pushing her head down once more. Again and again, until he was close to cumming. Which had happened fast, and he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed.
His balls ached for release and her teasing little hands that twisted and stroked him, along with her tongue, had him so loud he’d taken to biting his lip in an attempt to keep his sounds from slipping out. He pulled her off him stroking her cheek gently, swiping some tears away. Her eyes had begun to leak with tears from how deep she was taking him, and it made him throb.
“Gonna’ cum soon, Baby.”
She nodded. “Let me have it please, want your cum. Want it all.”
He stuffed her mouth once more at her words, rutting into her throat until she was gagging and coughing around him. His eyes squeezed shut, “Oh fuck, cummin’,” he hissed. Opening his eyes to watch the sight below him.
Her eyes looked up at him, and that’s what sent him over the edge. With one last thrust, he was cumming, hard, so hard his eyes saw white spots and he shuddered into her. She pulled back coughing, she’d swallowed as much as she could but some of it made its way out and dribbled down her chin. She swiped the rest with her thumb and licked it up.
She was just perfect.
He pulled her up by her chin and kissed her. 
“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.” He kissed her again before asking her, “Let Daddy take care of ya’ now, is that what y’want sweet girl?”
She nodded. “Yes please.”
“Good girl. So polite.” He said kissing her forehead. His hand slipped into her underwear circling her clit, which was slick with arousal. “So wet for me.”
She sighed leaning closer to his shoulder, pressing her forehead into him to cover her whines. He started to circle her clit faster, and her hips squirmed against his hand he then started teasing her weeping hole. She moaned deliciously into his neck. Felt so good.
“Come rest against me, my love.” She shifted her body at his command and turned to face away from him. Pushing her back into his chest, her bum tucked right against his stiffy. His legs spread open for her to sit in front of him and he grabbed the waistband of her undies pushing her undies down and she threw them to the side with her ankle. She leaned into his shoulder head tipped back and he watched from over her shoulder. Just like the rest of her, her pussy was beautiful. It was glistening in slick and begging for his attention. Beautiful and spread for him like a flower, her swollen bud was puffy and eager to be sucked, licked, and teased.
His hand slipped past her tummy and began to rub her softly coating his finger in her slick, preparing her for him to slip his fingers in. She sighed breathlessly. 
“Please, Daddy.” She whispered which made his cock twitch from behind her, she felt against her back.
He slowly slipped one in and her mouth opened but no sound came out until he was all the way inside, knuckle deep, which made her let out a broken cry. “Oh fuck, Harry.”
He began to thrust and curl his finger, moving faster and faster. Her tight pussy clamped down onto him, pulsing every few seconds, as she cried out softly into the room. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth and her body squirmed in pleasure as his other hand kept her legs spread for him. His thumb drew lazy circles on her puffy clit which had her pussy leaking even more onto his finger.
“Like when Daddy takes you like this?”
She nodded. “Mm.”
“Say it, Baby, tell me you like it.”
“I lov-love it when you take me like this.” Her voice was so soft and airy.
He began kissing her neck and shoulder, sucking a mark near her ear. She was too distracted to care about it leaving a mark tomorrow. “My pretty Baby, likes when I tease her little pussy?”
She made a whiney noise and her legs twitched almost shutting.
“So sensitive f’me.”
He slipped another finger inside her and she dripped out even more onto him, crying out softly into the hand she’d brought to her mouth, her slick trickled down her thighs too now and he didn’t slow his movements only went harder and faster into her. Loving the way she melted into his touch.
“Gunna’ cum for Daddy?”
She nodded biting her lip. “‘Feels so good. I’m goin’ ta’ cum soon, Daddy.”
He kept going kissing her skin and massaging her thighs and breasts and eventually her legs shook hard, and shut on his hand and she cried out and pulsed rapidly around his fingers, and he could only imagine how good he’d feel with her cumming on his cock like that. She looked so beautiful he felt like he might cum then and there on her back without having even touched himself. As the peak of her orgasm washed over her he slid his fingers out of her and brought them to her lips, giving her just the middle finger.
“Suck,” He told her.
She obeyed sucking dazedly still trying to calm down from her orgasm, when he pulled it out he brought the other one to his lips.
“Mm.” He said softly, she tasted tangy and sweet. 
She took some deep breaths as he held her close. “Thank you.” She whispered softly, shutting her eyes and catching her breath, she can’t remember the last time she came like that. So hard that she felt it in her entire body, so hard she saw stars and couldn’t contain her noises.
“Sucha’ good girl, you’re welcome my sweet girl.” She turned her head to the side and kissed him, very softly and slowly. Nothing feverish and rushed like their previous actions and his hands massaged her bare hips, kneading her plush flesh contently. God, she was just so soft, so warm, so wet, and so perfect. It was like he’d dreamt but better, if that was even possible. He was drunk on her touch.
When she pulled away she looked up at him. “I want your cock, please, I need it.” Her little pleads made his balls ache, and he wouldn’t have to be asked twice by her.
“Okay, Baby.” He said running a hand through his hair. She lifted her shirt over her head and threw it aside, completely bare, so perfect to him. Her nipples harden at the cool air, and her skin pimpled. Her body was perfect, every scar, mole, mark, and spot he’d have happily kissed and run his over for hours if she’d allow it.
He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it down in the middle of the bed right in front of her. “Why don’t you lie on your tummy f’me, Petal? Rest on the pillow.”
She nodded and put her hips in line with the pillow, her bum sticking in the air ready for him. His hands rubbed her softly, her skin was so smooth under his hands and he wanted to sink his teeth into her plush flesh. She was so fucking perfect, and the way their bodies knew exactly what to do to the other was just magic like they were made for one another. Just like a pair of contrasting colours splashed on a canvas together, it just worked.
“One sec,” He said leaning over to his bedside table pulling out a condom and ripping it open. He slid it over his leaking prick that was already standing tall at the sound of Y/n’s soft moans and perfect, wet, pussy that was waiting to be stuffed full of him. 
Before he slid himself inside her she turned to look over her shoulder. “I ‘aven’t in a while. Be gentle please, Harry.”
He kissed her forehead, “‘Course, Gorgeous.”
He held her hand in his reassuringly as he slowly dipped the tip inside of her, feeling her begin to stretch for him. She was tight, from nerves and the fact he was just so fucking large. She wasn’t nervous because of anything being wrong, she just wanted Harry to like her. She didn’t know how, but he had this incredible talent of making her nervous always. He was just so much more experienced, older, and had much more sex than her. She just worried she wouldn’t be up to his standards.
But when he began to coo her gently and rubbed her back and bum with his hands to relax her, she began to feel less nervous. Harry, though a prick with a filthy mouth and a bit of an attitude problem, would never want anything bad to happen to her and liked her for who she was, as she was. They’d been around each other for years after all, and with that sort of time, you just understand each other. He was a mean prick who had sex with just about anyone and she was a naive good girl who strayed from any attention. But they could still appreciate their differences. She was pleasantly surprised at how well their bodies understood each other too. His cock was the perfect fit for her, and she melted into the pain.
Her thoughts of nervousness were lost when he had stuffed her completely full of him, she could feel the tip of him teasing that spot inside her that she could only ever reach with toys, she let out a whimper. “Fuck, Harry.”
It was millions of times better than anything she’d ever experienced.
He hissed throwing his head back, feeling her stretch around him. “So tight, Love.”
He began to move, keeping true to his word, slow and gentle thrusts. Remaining as shallow with his movements as someone could with a cock that big.
Y/n’s eyes watered in a mix of pain and pleasure. Her hand flew back again to grab his wrist. “S’big, Daddy.”
He moaned at the name, it was just so fucking cute coming from her. He wanted to take care of her when she acted all needy like that, “Yeah? Feels big inside your little pussy, doesn’t it?”
God, he was filthy, he made her stomach curl with desire. She never thought she’d like dirty talk all that much, before this she’d felt it was corny coming from boys but coming from his lips it was the closest thing to heaven she’d ever heard.
She nodded into the bed and took her hand back to grip the sheets but he grabbed her hands and held them behind her back. He used them as leverage to push her back onto him, pinning her hands back, just like he said.
“Feeling alright, Baby?” He asked. 
And she nodded once more. 
“Tell me.” He told her.
“Feels fuckin’ amazing.” She said struggling to find the words, her orgasm had made her foggy and his cock bottoming out made it difficult to think of anything else.
“Feel so good on m’cock, fucking made to take it, Y/n.”
That made her shiver, the pain had started to subside turning into just pleasure now. “Can go faster, H.” She said just above a whisper. 
As he began to go faster and deeper like he’d been desperate to, she got louder and louder, and her pussy made these filthy noises against his cock. He was ruining her completely and she was enjoying every moment. Her eyes turned glossy in pleasure.
He let go of her hands to grab her hips and push her back harder, she began to move her hips to meet his, and he cried out. 
“Fuck,” He swore, tossing his head back stray curlings falling over his eyes when he looked back down at her.
He squeezed the flesh of her ass and moved his hand forward onto her hair gently tugging it backward, as he began to pound into her even harder. 
“Such a pretty little thing, letting me ruin you, what a good girl.” He said his voice all rough and coarse.
She keened clawing at the bed, “Feels so fucking good, Daddy, I love it thank you.”
Even in bed, she was so polite and obedient, that he wondered what she would be like after being edged for a while. Would her obedience turn to brattiness? He would have to try another time. Made him speed up even more at the thought.
“Wanna see tha’ pretty face while y’taking m’cock,” He said deciding to turn her onto her back he got rid of the pillow, flipping her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed rosy pink, her hair a mess from his pulling, and her eyes were practically black her pupils had gotten so big. She was perfect, his perfect good girl, and so beautiful he could’ve cum just looking at her.
He leaned down kissing her lips, as he continued his thrusts. He dragged his lips down along her jaw and down until he had one of her breasts in his mouth. Her nipples were sensitive to his tongue and her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, scratching along the peaks of his back. She felt so close, she couldn’t control any part of herself.
He moved his attention across to the other nipple, massaging the one that had just been marked with his mouth. She was moaning breathily, back arching up into him. She was so sensitive to his touch, so much so that every brush of skin that he dared to touch felt like it was on fire. 
“I’m getting close, Daddy.” She said and he began going even deeper, he could tell by the way her pussy was clamping down onto his prick harder and harder and more often that she was on the brink. It made his stomach turn.
“Atta girl, cum on Daddy’s cock.” Her legs were shaking and she screwed her eyes shut at his words. 
“Don’t stop, please.” She said, clawing his back. 
He didn’t dare change anything he was doing, he stayed hitting that spot deep inside her that made her scream out and claw him extra tightly. She pulled him closer so his mouth was hovering over hers, her legs wrapped around his back and she clawed his arms desperate for her release. She felt her stomach unravelling in the familiar feeling of her orgasm. 
“Gonna- fuck, gonna cum!” 
He felt her pulse rapidly on his cock and whined into her lips at the feeling. She made guttural moaning noise, all loud and high, as her legs squirmed and she shook around him. He helped her through her orgasm, stroking her cheek with his hands pecking her lips until she came down from it.
It was even more intense than her first and his cock greedily continued pounding her hardly giving her a chance to rest. He moved her leg up a bit higher against his hip and began to hit that spot even harder than before. 
She whined hands reaching up to his hair, tugging it, and he moaned. He loved it when she did that
“Can you handle another, sweet girl?” He asked he had no shame in wanting to watch her cum once more. It was too beautiful of a sight you couldn’t blame him, he was greedy for more.
And she nodded tiredly. “Think so. Might have to make me take it though, Daddy.”
Her voice drove him up the wall. “Fuck, so fucking perfect f’me. Love this pussy.” He moved his hand down to rub her clit, he wanted to speed up this next orgasm to be in time with his, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Watching his cock disappear in her was a sight he hoped to hold onto in his mind. It made his eyes roll back in his head. 
He kept throwing his head back and grunting as he continued the final stretch before his orgasm.
“Can you choke me, please? Wanna cum with your hand around m’throat, please.” She asked and it took him by surprise. Little innocent Y/n liked being choked too? God, this really was his idea of heaven. 
“Please, what?” He asked sternly.
“Please, Daddy.”
He smirked, and Y/n knew she was done for. He slipped his free hand around her throat, rings cold to her neck as squeezed the sides, he watched her become dizzy with pleasure and she start to show signs of cumming again, which was good because he didn’t know if he’d last much longer.
“Cum for me please, Princess, milk me with that perfect pussy.” He said his voice all rough and slurring, his pussy had him losing his mind. He was so far gone.
With a few more circles on her clit, and deep thrusts she was squirting all over his cock with an intense grip on his prick. He felt her drip down him around his cock making creating more friction for him to continue his merciless pace.
“Cumming,” She cried out loudly lifting a hand to her mouth to cover it, and Harry had honestly forgotten they were supposed to be quiet. The only thing on his mind was filling her with his cum. She was still feeling the wave of her orgasm wash over her and was loose-lipped and limp as Harry started to feel the knot in his tummy unravel in a familiar feeling of complete pleasure.
Her pulsing pussy was squeezing his cock so hard he couldn’t wait any longer. “Getting close, Baby.”
“Cum for me Daddy, please want your cum so bad,” She pleaded. He released his grip from her throat and let his forehead press into her shoulder as she pulled him closer. Hands scratching his hair and hugging him close to her body. Craving him. 
“Fuck, cummin’ Y/n, cummin’.” He said as his cock twitched hard while he bottom out of her, when his loud moans began to spill from his lips she brought their mouths together and he moaned against her swollen lips. 
Even after cumming he stayed inside her for a moment, absolutely spent, head resting on her shoulder. She gently rubbed his back with her hands and didn’t mind him staying close. Eventually, he lifted off of her and kissed her forehead before pulling out, she winced at the feeling of him pulling out of her ruined pussy.
“One sec, Love.”
She nodded. And shifted her hips knowing tomorrow morning she’d struggle to sit. Her hips would probably be bruised and her body would ache, but she did not care one bit. She wouldn’t change what had just happened. She had the best orgasms of her entire life, and Harry seemed pretty content too. And it had been with Harry, of all people it had been with the one person she wasn't supposed to get with.
He tied off the condom and threw it in a little bin by his desk. He walked inside the en suite in his room (he’d won the coin toss), and wet a flannel. He came back with a warm cloth to wipe her down. She squirmed at his touch, feeling very sore and sensitive. “Sorry, Love, I know, but can’t have ya’ all sticky before bed can I?”
She just nodded once again. He put the flannel back in the sink and switched the light off coming back out to find Y/n limp and star-fished in the middle of his bed on the mess of his sheets. She looked completely spent, her three orgasms had tired her out so much. 
“Y’ want something to wear?” He asked. 
She nodded. “Thanks, Styles.”
He smiled at her usual name for him. “What happened to Daddy?”
“Oh, shut up.” She said blushing, he was probably going to keep bringing that up whenever he could, just to tease her. 
He grabbed a big baggy black shirt and some plaid boxers for from his drawer.
“Y’so cute when you blush, you know?”
She frowned hands moving to her face. “Stoppp!” She whispered loudly.
He handed her the clothes and helped her slide into them, and she half expected to be sent back to the couch downstairs and told thanks for the shag, but he pulled the duvet down the bed and patted the middle of the bed for her to sleep there. She moved to lay in the spot and Harry placed the duvet over her. 
Sliding back on his boxers from before, and running a hand through his messy sweaty hair he looked over at her. “I’ll get us some water, be right back.”
She nodded. “Alright.”
When he came back with two glasses of water he placed them on the bedside table and sighed before rolling in beside her. She turned to face him. “Hi,” she said with a giggle.
“Hi.” He replied with a small laugh too. 
“Your bed's very comfy, Styles.”
“Better than m’couch.” He replied sliding a hand onto her waist to rub her side, soothing her into a restful sleep.
“Much better, should’ve shagged you sooner if it meant bed privileges.”
He scoffed playfully, “Only using me for my cock and the comfy bed, aye?”
She laughed back. “Yeah, obviously, why else?”
He pulled her even closer and turned the tone more serious. “Thank you for before,”
She frowned confusedly. “The blowjob?”
He laughed softly. “No, in the kitchen.”
She laughed at herself. “Oh right,” She said lifting her hand to stroke his cheek which he leaned into. “Well, I like your rotten mouth and shocking brutal honesty and all the rest of you. Don’t worry about those guys.”
He leaned closer, a teasing expression lighting up his face. “You like me?”
She just rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. 
“I like you too.”
This made her blush. “Go to sleep.”
“C’mere then,” 
She got even closer and fell asleep to the beat of his heart and gentle caress on her back.
The following morning, she woke up early, which was very unlike her, and in a total panic, that Emma might have noticed she was missing from the couch. Harry groaned grabbing her, “Don’t go.”
“Have to, Em’s gonna notice, she’d kill us both.” She said, voice all raspy and eyes bleary. 
He whined not letting go. “Stupid Emma.”
“Shh. I’ll see you later.” She was about to leave back downstairs, but he grabbed her and she watched him waiting for what else wanted from her. 
“Kiss?”
She leaned down and pecked his lips which he smiled at shutting his eyes to go back to sleep, and she left sneaking back downstairs. Sluggishly wrapping the blanket around her and shutting her eyes, even though she was much too giddy to sleep. 
When Emma woke up with a throbbing head she smiled at Y/n and she started making coffee quietly since her head couldn’t handle anything loud. This made Y/n stir, sitting up and turning the telly on sleepily. A re-run of Friends was on and she wrapped herself up in the blanket and sat back watching.
Emma wordlessly passed her a coffee and sat beside her, stealing some of the blanket. They spent the rest of the episode in silence just huddling together for warmth and sipping away tiredly, until Harry’s footsteps could be heard creaking down the stairs.
“Want some pancakes, children?”
The pair nodded. 
Y/n looked over at him smiling to herself, he’d changed into a loose navy crewneck and some pyjama pants. He looked gorgeous, and she was reminded of last night. She'd liked him for years, and now she'd done filthy things with him, would she ever recover?
When the pancakes were ready they all sat together at the table. Harry was a wonderful cook, he made a variety of pancakes.
Blueberry, chocolate chip, plain, some with strawberries and cream. He'd brought out lemon and sugar too because that's what Y/n liked on her pancakes, and lots of fruit for Emma. He'd brought out two big jugs of juice for them and a coffee pot.
“Sleep well, Em?” Asked Harry, with a mouthful of blueberry pancake chewing lazily. How did he even look sexy eating?
She nodded. “Yeah,”
“Me too.” He replied before turning to Y/n, who was mid-sip on some juice, it was a mix of berries and tasted sweet. “Y/n?”
She coughed, choking on her juice, and Harry smirked knowingly. Emma patted her back, “You alright, mate?”
“Yeah, just wrong hole. I slept fine.” Y/n said.
“Hate when that happens.” Harry teased, and she wanted to kick his shin but Emma definitely would’ve noticed.
They all finished their pancakes and after the big breakfast, Emma had an aspirin and told them both she was going back to bed for a nap.
“I might head off then,” Y/n said, she wanted to go home and nap herself. Harry had kept her awake for a good portion of the night after all, and her body was very sore. “I’ll get an Uber.”
“Alright, Babe,” She said hugging her. Y/n kissed her cheek and hugged her back.
“Bye, Babe,” Y/n said with a soft smile.
“Thanks for taking care of me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Y/n nodded. “Of course, we have to do our monthly movie marathon rain, hail, or shine!”
Emma smiled. “Perfect, get home safe.”
They parted, and Emma went back to her room to sleep. Y/n’s Uber arrived moments later and Harry watched Y/n leave waving with a big devilish grin.
She waved back hopping in the Uber tiredly, as the car pulled away and Harry shut the door, her phone buzzed with a text.
Harry Styles🍒
Can I come over tonight?
Y/n felt a big grin overtake her face. 
what on earth for mr. styles?
Harry Styles🍒
Didn’t get to give a you proper goodbye, did I?
Y/n blushed with a small laugh as she typed back. 
see u at eight
Harry Styles🍒
See you then Baby X
Y/n bit her lip. What had she gotten herself into?
oh and bring snacks 
and that new film u were raving about to niall
Harry Styles🍒
Ok, done. See you tonight. XX
Y/n felt her cheeks heat up similar to last in the kitchen. This was not the Harry she knew, but she didn’t have it in her to complain. She saw flashes of last night of them together and squirmed in her seat.
‘💗💗’ She replied.
When she put her phone down in her lap and stared out at the window she sighed to herself, knowing she was completely done for. Harry had ruined her, she'd never be able to stop thinking about him and last night. However, she had very few complaints about it. Her phone buzzed yet again. She checked it.
Harry Styles🍒 hearted your message.
She smiled even more and shut her eyes, head resting against the leather seat, as she wondered if he was smiling this big too.
2K notes · View notes
ifancyharry · 5 months
Text
Ever since New York
what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?
Tumblr media
September.
Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.
He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose. 
So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.
Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one. 
So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.
So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.
She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.
She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.
Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.
Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.
She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.
“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now. 
“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on. 
So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.
It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.
“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it. 
He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.
YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.
Plus,  if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.
“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.
When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them. 
She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them. 
Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.
When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”
...
YN wonders whether she should quit.
It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.
She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.
Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.
She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.
He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.
She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!
“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.
He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.
YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.
When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.
“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.
“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.
Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.
“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.
He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.
He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.
“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.
YN knows she should definitely quit.
...
“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”
YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of. 
Things haven’t been easy. 
Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take. 
He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear. 
Today has been a long day. 
She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change. 
After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue. 
He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did. 
It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean. 
She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?
It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty. 
It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show. 
Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!
“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!” 
She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall. 
“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly. 
YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.” 
“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!” 
She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes. 
Finally. 
She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left. 
Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot. 
She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering. 
She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with. 
It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day. 
It had been a long day. 
it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first. 
So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door. 
He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her. 
Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends. 
As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him. 
He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling. 
YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him. 
He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him. 
She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying. 
It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad. 
“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view. 
“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running. 
“I don’t know” she ponders. 
“Please, YN” 
She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in. 
She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging. 
“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. 
YN doesn’t know what happens next. 
She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying. 
She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out. 
She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her. 
“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder. 
“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids. 
Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly. 
She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”. 
“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts. 
To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her. 
“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude” 
“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest. 
She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily. 
“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words. 
“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job” 
“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that. 
“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault” 
“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits. 
“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way” 
“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds. 
“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped” 
“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks. 
“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.
“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.
“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?” 
October
“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child. 
YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again. 
The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween. 
It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff. 
He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y. 
So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks. 
“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch. 
“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas” 
YN has to refrain herself from laughing. 
“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween” 
“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face. 
“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly. 
“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows. 
“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year. 
He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless. 
He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”. 
“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots. 
“Wow… that clearly is something…” 
“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again. 
“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them. 
YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately. 
Everything is green. 
Harry is hiding something. 
He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them. 
But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something. 
It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep. 
Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish. 
If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!) 
“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.
“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body. 
“I bet” he chuckles. 
“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.
“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”
“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten” 
“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.
“What are ye watchin’?” 
“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.
“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him. 
“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!” 
“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.
“No, not in that sense at least”
“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”
She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them. 
The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile. 
She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means. 
It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding. 
Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back! 
That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!” 
“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly. 
He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.
“What’s wrong?” 
“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.” 
And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning. 
That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.
“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly. 
YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do. 
She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her. 
She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes. 
“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.
She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him. 
“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”
YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.
“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun” 
“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”
“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.
She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!” 
“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.
YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.
“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.
“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”
“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”
YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”
“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”
“Yeah, you would” she agrees.
Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.
Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”
“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem. 
He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”
They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her. 
Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning. 
“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.
“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”
“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.
He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.
She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.
The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.
She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.
“Better?” He asks.
“Much better.” 
“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”
“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”
He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.
She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot. 
“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words. 
She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.
She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming. 
She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything. 
It’s just a compliment. 
Like a friend would to another. Right? 
It’s not easy to avoid your boss. 
Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him. 
On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.
And he’s many things all together. 
And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later. 
On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!! 
She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.
“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.
“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.
He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!” 
“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.
“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.
“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.
She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.
“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.
She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.
“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”
“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively. 
YN would really like to say yes. She really would. 
“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”
“Yeah of course” he shrugs.
He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.
“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”
“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”
She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”
“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”
“I’m not saying anything”
“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”
“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.
“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”
“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”
“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”
“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.
“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.
“He’s literally my boss”
“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.
“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”
“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.
She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”
“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.
She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.
Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.
It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.
“I need you to do my makeup”
It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume. 
His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.
Well, turns out, it is hard. 
So, YN was really his last hope. 
That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it. 
He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him. 
“What!” She says before even checking who it was.
“I need you to do my makeup”.
That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them. 
She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!
but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?
This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!
“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out. 
“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.
She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.
He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut. 
“Hold your hair for me please” 
He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.
YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin. 
Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.
She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.
“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).
“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.
He nods, “I’d like that”.
“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair. 
“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.
She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.
“All done!” 
He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.
Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.
YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more. 
“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.
“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!” 
She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.
She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!” 
This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.
The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).
He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.  
From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.
“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.
He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.
“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.  
She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.
She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.
“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.
“It’s okay, no problem at all!” 
It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel. 
A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.
She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.
She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.
When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.
He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him. 
“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”
She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after. 
“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”
She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”
He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”
“I don’t follow?”
“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”
“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.
She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.
“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”
She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.
He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.
“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.
She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”
“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“
He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.
What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.
Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.
Because he had been a dick.
So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).
YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”
“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”
YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest. 
She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.
She doesn’t think he likes her like that.
Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…
She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.
“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.
“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.
“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him. 
“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers. 
“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good” 
“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”
She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”
...
“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“ 
It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.
He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.
She must be so tired.
He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.
He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.
He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.
The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought. 
it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!! taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts
1K notes · View notes
stylescine · 8 months
Text
Weeks apart
Tumblr media
Summary: Husband Harry returns from tour. Him and Y/N are eager to catch up on what they’ve missed.
Pairing: Husband!Harry x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only, unprotected sex (p in v), doggy, harry is a huge tease, edging, dirty talk, praise, tiny bits of spanking, fingering, masturbation , harry giving reader instructions, mentions of alcohol, talk of nude pictures, creampie (wrap it before you tap it kids), fluff (aftercare), NOT PROOFREAD
Words: 4.8k
A/N: I'm back!! and hopefully I'll become more active now. But now, enjoy this smutty husband Harry one shot because I definitely enjoyed writing it ;)
Masterlist | Request
There was nothing more boring than being without Harry for weeks. FaceTime calls and hour-long calls couldn’t make up for all the time apart. 
It was especially haunting her when she was in bed, alone, the other side of the bed eerily empty and waiting for his return. There was no one to hug her in the morning, to wake her up with forehead kisses or watch TV with her in the evening. 
They tried to keep in touch as much as possible. It wasn’t a rarity that Harry sent her lots of pictures from wherever he was in the world at the moment. She could fill an entire folder with them. When he was waiting for a flight or bored in his hotel room, he messaged her whatever came into his head and she loved to chat with him throughout the day. 
But it just didn’t compare to the feeling of living with him. To have him around her, with his beautiful laugh and his arms around her whenever he could. 
She missed him at dinner when he wasn’t there to pull the chair back for her or smile at her from across the table. He didn’t drink his tea with her in the morning and only updated her on his breakfast through messages. 
She also missed him when she was in their bed, alone, thinking about him. Her own hands couldn’t replace his. They couldn’t replace the feeling of Harry pushing her legs apart, tongue sliding through her folds and his hands gripping her thighs. No toy could compare to the feeling of having him inside her. Nothing could ever make her come like Harry did. 
When she was in the shower, she tried to imagine his naked body pressed against hers. To have her breasts pressed against the cold wall as he was thrusting inside her from behind. 
But he wasn’t there and she would have to wait. 
Tumblr media
The day finally came. 
She had counted the minutes until his plane would land and she would take him home with her. Leaning against her car, she couldn’t wait for Harry to come out of the airport and finally be in her arms again. It had been too long. Her body practically ached for him. For a hug, for a kiss… she just wanted to have him close again. 
Then the double doors finally slid open and out came her husband. Harry was carrying his bag and his suitcase as he was heading towards her. A large smile spread over his face, the excitement in his face undeniable. 
Looking at him, having him in front of her again, was enough to make her crave him even more. The sunglasses complimented his face, his hair as perfect as always and she couldn’t deny the urge to run her hands through it again. Messing up his hair was a habit of hers, but she knew that her husband adored it anyways. 
How could he always look so good? If she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t have been able to tell that he just had a long plane journey behind him. 
She made a few more steps towards him as Harry placed down his suitcase on the ground, opening his arms for her. Y/N was giddy with excitement, her steps speeding up until she could finally wrap her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could. His hands moved to her back, holding her close. The smell of his perfume filled her nose in an instant, her body relaxing as she could hear his heartbeat against her ear. 
“I missed you.” His voice was a whisper into her hair. His hands moved up and down on her back slowly, taking her in as much as he could. “I missed you too,” she replied with a smile before tilting her head up to look at him.
Harry was smiling at her, tears glistening in his eyes. His hands moved to her cheeks instead, soft thumbs slowly moving over her skin. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his own and it still felt as good as the first time they had kissed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, telling him not to let go anytime soon. She had missed kissing him. The wonderful pressure of his lips against her own, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the thrill it sent through her body every time. Kissing Harry felt like a drug. It was undeniably addictive. 
His hands slid down her body again, resting on her waist as he pulled her closer. “Missed your body so much,” he whispered against her lips and it was enough to make a shiver run through her body. 
Her body had missed him just as much and they had a lot to catch up on. 
Tumblr media
The door fell closed behind them in an instant. Harry gave her a knowing grin. 
They had both wanted this for so long. All the endless messages of how their body was craving the other. All the pictures sent back and forth, in an attempt to achieve the same pleasure as they would in person. But nothing would ever match the real thing. The heat that was building between them now.  
“Let’s take you to bed, darling.” 
Harry’s arm wrapped around the back of her legs, swiftly picking her up in his arms. 
As he carried her up the stairs, she was inevitably reminded of their wedding night. Harry had carried her up the stairs the exact same way, as traditional as ever in a wedding night, having her kissed over and over until they had finally reached the bedroom. 
It was the same now and her excitement was just as big. 
“Just like our wedding night.”
Harry gave her a grin in return. “Of course. You deserve that treatment all year long. Not just at our wedding.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, reassuring her that he would always show her the love she deserved. Harry would always care for her and love her the way she should be loved. 
Unconditionally. 
When they finally reached the bedroom, he gently placed her down on their bed. 
That’s where the tone very much shifted. 
They had talked about Harry being the more dominant part during sex before. They had enjoyed the slight play of power, the new opportunities that opened up with it. And she had been eager to continue where they had left off before he had gone on tour. 
Harry’s eyes darkened with lust as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. His fingers found her chin, gently tilting her head up to make her look at him. 
“I hope you were a good girl while I was away.” His voice had lowered. He leaned forward slowly, his lips grazing her nose and then her mouth for a second. “I was thinking about you every night. I was thinking about how pretty you look when you suck me off. Or how well you bounce on my cock, sweetheart.” His voice was merely a whisper. 
She pressed her legs together in excitement, feeling the tension and want growing in her belly. Her hand moved over the man’s legs in front of her, wandering over the soft fabric of his pants before his bigger hand came to stop her. Their fingers intertwined for just a moment before he let go of her again. 
She dropped her hand to rest on her knees, waiting for him to make the next move. She looked as eager as she felt, eyes wide open and cheeks red from anticipation. 
“Undress,” he instructed, walking over to the armchair at the other end of the room. Harry grabbed a glass from the small table in front of it, pouring himself a drink before he sat down, watching his wife intently. He couldn’t wait to see her naked, to wrap his lips around her nipples again and make her scream and squirm underneath him. There was only so much his hand could do and nothing compared to the feeling of being inside her. 
Y/N was quick to follow his words and pull her shirt over her head. She got back up from the bed to open her pants and slide them down her thighs, feeling Harry’s eyes on her constantly. The hunger in them was undeniable. He took a sip of his drink, crossing his legs as he sat in the armchair to enjoy the show. 
She unclasped her bra with ease, letting it fall to the ground. Harry let his eyes wander over her perfect breasts, his tongue craving to flick against her nipples. He could feel the boner in his pants, straining against the fabric, but he would have to leave it like this for a little bit longer. 
Her fingers hooked into the sides of her panties and she stepped out of them when they fell to the ground. She didn’t feel any kind of shame to stand like this in front of Harry. His gaze alone was enough to show her how much he was enjoying the view. 
His tongue moved over his lips for a brief moment before he started speaking again. “Lay down on the bed for me and get yourself ready. I want to see you play with that perfect pussy of yours.” The excitement even translated into his voice. Another sip from his glass before he got back up and out of the chair. He bent down to open his shoes quickly and take them off. 
She laid down in the middle of the bed in that time, spreading her legs for him. She wanted to assure he would have a good view of what would be happening. The thought of Harry watching her, being there to see her touch herself, was enticing enough and made her legs shiver with want. Her hand travelled over her own stomach, finding that warm spot between her legs. Two fingers started to rest on her clit while Harry’s eyes followed her hand closely. He didn’t even dare to take off his shirt, fearing that he would even miss a second of the show unfolding before him. 
Y/N started to move her fingers in slow, circular motions and leant her head back onto the mattress, looking up at the ceiling as she was touching herself. Her pleasure was slowly increasing, but she was taking it slow because she knew more would await her as soon as Harry would come over and start touching her. 
The sight in front of him reminded Harry of the videos she had sent him. The videos he had so often watched while he was on his own, in some hotel room, moving his hand up and down on his shaft as he imagined being inside of his beautiful wife instead. Watching her in real time in front of him now was even better, but his fingertips were already aching to touch her properly. To not stand away in a safe distance and only be able to watch. 
When she took a moment to readjust her hand to start with faster motions, Harry took the chance to take off his shirt and open his pants. He slid them down his legs quickly, both the pants and shirt quickly being forgotten on the ground. Just in his boxers, she took a moment to look at him and admire the growing arousal that was hard to ignore. Her hand was craving to get a hold on it. 
“Keep going,” he instructed her, voice growing deeper as he made a few steps closer to her. The feeling of being watched by him was turning her on even more as she started to move her hand a lot faster and her legs started to shiver with arousal. She could feel the insides of her thighs growing more wet and the tension in her belly heighten. 
Her movements grew more frantic as she was trying to chase after her own climax. Moans slipped past her lips as she continued to move towards that sweet release. Her legs started to move together a bit again, but she kept flicking over her clit, then moving her fingers in circles once more. Her cheeks grew red as she was so close to her orgasm, but- 
Harry’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and stopped her hand from moving. “That’s enough for now.”
The edging left her breathless and looking up at her husband with wide eyes. She wanted that release, but she knew this was a part of their game. Harry would give her what she wanted when the time was right. And there was no better feeling than coming with him inside her anyways. 
Taking a deep breath, she sat up on the bed again, tilting her head back to look up at Harry standing in front of her. He took a step forward to stand between her legs, his eyes wandering over her naked body and she could read the desire off his face. His pupils were wide and his hands were quick to move over her shoulders, up over her neck until he was cupping her face with his hands. 
His thumb moved over her lips, tracing their shape, before he pushed them apart to let her take his thumb into her mouth. She sucked on it ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact with the man in front of her. 
When he pulled his hand away from her again, there was a smirk on his lips. His other hand moved back over her neck, feeling the soft skin of her collarbones, until he reached her left breast. His thumb flicked over her nipple now, his other hand soon joining on her right boob. A long sigh left her as he continued to flick her nipples with his thumbs. He did so with a precision that left her breathing heavily, chest pushing up into his touch. 
“Harry.”
His name sounded like music from her lips. It made him smirk even more, his eyes searching for hers again. She had her eyes half closed, enjoying the bliss his fingers was giving her on her breasts. 
Then he stopped with the movements, thumbs hovering over her erect nipples. 
“Lay back down,” he whispered and watched her fall back onto the bed. The sight was heavenly. He would take a thousand pictures of her if he could. Maybe he would one day. Have her pose for him in nice underwear and keep those pictures in his phone for when he was away. 
Harry palmed himself through his boxers for a moment. He needed to feel her tight cunt around him soon or it would drive him absolutely crazy. 
“Spread your legs for me, darling,” he instructed, watching her open her legs. 
He could watch her for hours. The pink of her pussy spread out before him, wetness coating her legs already. Harry moved his hands over her skin. His calloused fingers were enough to send shivers down her spine and make her legs tremble. She wanted him so bad and it was driving her crazy that he wasn’t inside of her yet. Her walls were clenching around nothing, wanting that release so badly. 
Her husband looked so good in the dim light of the bedroom. His eyes were darkened with lust, pupils wide as he kneeled between her legs and kissed from her ankles up to her knees and then eventually over the insides of her thighs. Harry’s light stubble rubbed against her skin and left her shivering in its wake. She pushed her hips up, desperate for more, desperate to feel him where she wanted it the most. 
“Harry, please,” she whimpered, spreading her legs apart even more. 
“You need me so bad, love, don’t you?” His teasing was driving her crazy, but it was sexy at the same time. Harry’s mouth came closer to her ear, teeth brushing over her earlobe, before he continued to whisper to her. 
“Been thinking about your wet pussy all the time. How much it needs me.” She could feel his hand slide up her thigh, nearing her sensitive core until he slipped one finger inside with ease. It was barely a stretch, but even the slightest friction felt good enough to let a moan escape her. His finger curled ever so slightly, pushing again that sweet spot inside of her. It made her whimper, her hands searching for support by holding onto her husband’s shoulders. 
She could smell his cologne and admire his tattoos as he was hovering over her. There was a bit of sweat on his chest, his cross necklace hanging loose in front of it. There was no better sight in the world and she pushed her hips up to demand more. 
“I need you so bad,” she whispered, her voice breaking. How much more would she have to beg to finally feel Harry fill her out again? 
He took his hand away from her, leaving her pussy clenching around nothing again. 
His hands moved to her hips instead, looking down at her. There was a mischievous smirk on his face, already telling her that it would still be a while until she could feel the sweet release of her orgasm. “We’re going to take our time, sweetheart.” 
She let out another whimper, a sign that she was craving anything he was willing to give her right now. Her eyes searched Harry’s, but before she could really read his expression, he flipped her onto her stomach with ease. A surprised gasp escaped her, but her excitement quickly rose. Having Harry fuck her from behind was one of her favourite positions. She could always feel him a lot deeper that way and his cock already wasn’t small. 
Wiggling her butt a little, she was hoping to gain a bit more attention from Harry. Her husband was mentally focused on her, but she needed to feel his large hands cup her ass or feel his stubble rub against her sensitive skin. He had left her ass cheeks covered with love bites often enough, the sight alone being enough to remind her of previous nights whenever she walked past a mirror in the morning. 
“So eager for me,” Harry groaned, hand moving over her lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His rings were cold against her skin as he started to squeeze her left cheek. 
She bit down on her bottom lip as she pushed her butt up to meet him. She wanted more of his touches. Needed him to touch her everywhere. To pull her legs apart and lick through her folds. Her pussy was craving his body and she didn’t know how much more patience she had. 
Yet it didn’t change the fact that all of it was heightening her excitement. Her tummy was full with that familiar tension, the same desire she always felt. The one that hadn’t been satisfied for so long as Harry was touring around the world. 
She could feel Harry remove his hand from her butt slowly. 
“How I missed your body.” 
His hand came down onto her skin again in an instant. It left behind a sting that made her moan and writhe underneath his touch. She could especially feel where his rings had met with her sensitive skin and she was craving more. 
Hearing Harry talk about how much he had missed her, how much he had been craving her body just as she had been craving his, was boosting her confidence quite easily. Their relationship had always been built on trust and comfort, but she still loved to receive praise or kind words from him. Especially when they had been apart for so long and it was finally time to catch up with all they had missed out on. 
“You better send me more pictures of that ass next time,” Harry mumbled into her ear. She could now feel his weight on top of her back, feel the fabric of his boxers pressed against her ass. His hard dick was pressed between her butt cheeks, his hips moving slowly as he was grinding against her. Low moans escaped Harry’s throat. She pushed her hips up once more, desperate for even a little bit more of the friction. 
It became harder for Harry to hold himself back as well, so he figured it would now be the time to finally feel her again. He pushed his boxers down and discarded them somewhere in the room, lying down between her legs again. His chest was pressed against her back, his weight on top of her a welcomed sensation, as his lips moved over her shoulder blades and one of his hands brushed down over her waist. 
“So beautiful,” he whispered, lips attaching to the back of her neck. He started to suck on the soft skin, moans leaving her mouth in response. His tongue soon flicked over the sensitive spot, his teeth nibbling on the red bruise for a second before he moved further down. Kisses were planted on her spine until Harry reached her lower back and eventually her ass. 
His teeth sunk softly into her cheeks.  She let out a gasp, wiggling against the mattress. She needed more. It was starting to get more and more unbearable. 
“Do you want me to fuck you, darling? Tell me how much you want it.” Harry enjoyed asking her about it explicitly. It didn’t matter how much her body was already showing him that she was in need of his touch, he wanted to hear it come from her lips. 
“Yes. I need you so bad, Harry. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Her voice was shaking, tinged with desire and continuous want. 
“Then I don’t want to keep you waiting for longer.”
The sentence alone was relieving her and urging her on at the same time. She would finally get what she had been fantasising about all this time. His hands had wandered her body in her dreams, she had used toys to try and replicate the feeling of Harry inside her, but it would never feel like the real experience. She needed it. It was almost like she had been starving and Harry was finally giving her body what it needed. 
Harry pulled her up onto her knees by her hips. “Keep your ass in the air for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to still hear it. 
His cock pressed against her ass as he was grinding against it. Slow at first, then with a bit more pressure. His hands continued their path over the curve of her bum, kneading its cheeks for a moment as he watched her squirm on the bed. His right hand moved lower, brushing over the inside of her thigh until he found her wetness once more. 
“Someone is so excited for my cock.” Harry’s voice was low, but he didn’t conceal the chuckle that left after his words. 
He pushed her legs apart a bit more to gain more space for himself. 
She buried her face in the comfortable pillows on the end of the bed, biting her lip as she waited patiently for Harry to enter her. To fill her to the brim and make her legs shake. 
She could slowly feel him ease inside, a slight sting rushing through her from the first initial pressure, but as soon as he was buried inside her completely, she let out a loud moan. It felt good to have him stretch her out again. His hand moved over the small of her back and up her spine, pushing her further down into the pillows as he slowly started thrusting into her. 
Her groans were drowned out by the pillow at first, but when he picked up his pace, loud moans slipped past her lips. His name fell off them as well, filing the room with a low groan from Harry as well. 
His fingers dug into her hips as he thrusted harder into her. He leaned forward, getting closer to her ear. 
“I want to hear you, Y/N.”
Harry almost pulled out completely of her, just to thrust hard into her again. His hand moved over her back until he took a hold of her hair and pulled on it as he continued to thrust into her. 
Her legs were shaking and the tension in her tummy kept building. He was moving just at the right pace, leaving her as a moaning and shaking mess underneath him. The pleasure filled her completely, from head to toe, and her shaking legs were evidence of that. She could feel him bottom out every time he thrusted back into her, her own nails clawing at the pillows. 
She planted her hands on the mattress when Harry pulled her back by her hair, letting out a loud whimper in response. His dominant side felt like the icing on the cake as he continued to make her feel so good. His name left her mouth multiple times again and each one of his thrusts brought her closer to the edge. 
Her hips moved back against him, desperate to get closer to the edge. Harry tugged on her hair again. The pain coursing through her just urged her on even more. 
“Fuck,” she groaned as her legs began to shake. She was balancing on the very edge now, so close to letting herself fall apart. That sweet release was in reach when–
Harry stopped his movements, keeping himself buried deep inside her. His fingers trailed over her back, leaving goosebumps behind and shivers running down her spine. She was breathing heavily as she turned her head to look back at him. There was a mischievous smirk on his face again. It was incredibly hot when he was edging her, when he showed her who was in command, but she was now desperate for her own release, to feel that wave of pleasure finally come over her. 
“Harry, please, I need to-”
“What do you need, darling?” He leaned forward, brushing some of her hair away to place a kiss on her shoulder blade. “Tell me.” His voice was raspy and she knew he was holding back his own release. This would be the final time he was dragging it out and it was definitely time for them both to get what they wanted. 
“I need to come, Harry. Please.” 
He let out a soft moan at her words. Begging for her release was turning her on as well, biting her lip as she started to move her hips back against him in an attempt to get closer to what she wanted. 
Harry couldn’t wait any longer either. 
“Good girl.”
His left hand went back to her hip as he picked up his pace once more. His thrusts were fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time she could feel him deep inside her, it brought her a bit closer to her release. 
Harry’s right hand wandered over her thigh to her hip, but then continued on to her stomach, eventually sliding down to find her clit. His fingers started to run over it in circles. 
She was a whimpering mess underneath him as all those sensations filled her body. The heat in her body was rising, her knuckles turned white as she held on to the soft fabric of the pillows, the tension in her tummy reaching its high until Harry gave ever one final thrust, fingers flicking over her clit as he finally pushed her over the edge. 
Her orgasm came in waves, making her entire body shiver and her pussy clench around his cock. It was enough to throw Harry over the edge as well. He didn’t hide his moans as his dick started to pulse inside her, painting her walls white. 
The pleasure was still coursing through her. She dropped face forward into the pillows, letting out a long sigh as she pressed her legs together ever so slowly. Harry pulled out of her, leaving the cum trickling down her legs as she was catching her breath. 
A low chuckle sounded behind her before her husband laid down next to her. His fingers brushed through her messed up hair as he admired the red on her cheeks and the dazed look in her eyes. 
“Missed me?” 
“I think so.”
Harry leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “Maybe I should run you a bath,” he suggested, thumb brushing over her cheek. 
“That sounds wonderful,” she replied with a smile. 
And as Harry got up from their shared bed, Y/N wished he would never have to leave again. 
1K notes · View notes
zarry-fics · 3 months
Text
Vai cuidar de mim? | Zayn Malik
avisos: contém cenas explícitas, linguagem agressiva, menção à armas de fogo, sangue e assuntos relacionados.
masterlist
Tumblr media
Se passam das 2h da madrugada e Zayn ainda não voltou. Não que eu me importe com ele, mas é estranho o fato de ele estar demorando tanto, afinal, saiu cedo. Talvez tenha acontecido algo. O que eu devo fazer? Ligar pra ele? Não sei se teria coragem de mandar mensagens, não sei o que ele pode estar fazendo, e se estiver com outra? Meu coração aperta com a possibilidade. Mesmo que tenha me casado com ele para que nossas famílias entrassem em um acordo de paz e eu não o amasse quando fui obrigada a me vestir de noiva e casar com ele, eu já me sinto diferente ao seu respeito, depois de tudo o que vivemos juntos.
Sinto um nó se formar em minha garganta com a possibilidade de ele estar me traindo ou que tenha morrido. As duas são assustadoras. Fere o meu ego pensar que ele pode estar buscando em outras o que eu não lhe dei desde o primeiro momento, por não estar pronta. E mesmo que eu não demonstre amá-lo e lhe diga algumas coisas horríveis - das quais eu não me orgulho - em nossas brigas, eu ainda me sinto mal por saber que ele pode estar machucado por aí e eu não possa fazer nada a respeito. Mordo o lábio e ao rolar na cama por horas e horas, eu decido me levantar, caminhando até o banheiro para lavar o rosto, tentar me acalmar. Zayn é um fofo comigo na maior parte do tempo, eu já estou muito arrependida pelo que lhe disse mais cedo, em um momento de surto.
HORAS MAIS CEDO
— Zayn! — o chamei pela quinquagésima vez, enquanto o procuro pela casa, tendo o seu celular em mãos. Sinto que vou explodir de raiva, me arrependendo profundamente de ter atendido a porra da ligação que lhe fizeram há alguns minutos atrás. O encontrei sentado na sala, assistindo a um seriado qualquer. Ele me olhou confuso, encarando o seu celular.
— O quê? Aconteceu algo? — questionou despreocupadamente, aparentando estar confuso. 
— Aconteceu algo sim, Zayn! Acontece que uma tal Jade te ligou e parecia ser bem íntima sua quando atendi. Mas não para por aí, pode me explicar que porra é essa aqui também? — eu abri o aplicativo de mensagens, onde encontrei diversas fotos dessa maldita Jade em posições… Comprometedoras. Não sei explicar a cólera que pesa em meu coração, só sinto vontade de esganá-lo agora mesmo. — Você prometeu que não deixaria os seus “casos” tão evidentes quando estivéssemos casados, você prometeu! — rosnei, sentindo meus olhos arderem.
— Eu nunca abri essas fotos, S/N. — ele respondeu naturalmente — Você deve ter percebido isso.
— Não, eu- — realmente, eram muitas mensagens, estas que foram enviadas há muito tempo atrás. Nem pensei nisso no momento em que vi as fotos, minha raiva me cegou — Olha, você-
— Eu não deixaria meu celular desbloqueado em um lugar que você pudesse encontrar se estivesse sendo infiel a você. — me interrompeu e achei que estivesse bravo, mas quando o vi sorrir de lado me senti um pouco mais… Aliviada? — De qualquer forma, fico feliz em saber que você sente ciúmes de mim.
— O quê? Claro que não! — respondi rápido, quase ao menos pensando na resposta — Eu só… Só acho injusto que-
— Eu acho que é injusto você estar surtando comigo quando poderia estar bem aqui. — apontou para seu lado no sofá — Ou aqui. — logo em seguida para seu colo. Enruguei as sobrancelhas e o olhei com desdém.
— Eu não sinto ciúmes de você, Zayn. Acorda! — o repreendi, mais como se quisesse provar algo para mim mesma — Eu nunca teria ciúmes de alguém como você! Eu ao menos te amo. — a expressão de Zayn murchou no mesmo instante, se tornando fria em poucos segundos. 
— Então por que veio me questionar como se eu te devesse alguma satisfação? — ele me olhou de cima a baixo, bufando — Me devolva o meu celular, agora. — se levantou e pegou o aparelho de minhas mãos — Já que você não sente nada por mim, não se importaria caso eu fosse saber, pessoalmente, o que a Jade quer tanto me dizer, não é? 
— Não me importo, só quero que me respeite e não permita que essas mulheres fiquem ligando para você. — Zayn me encarou por alguns segundos, sua expressão é indecifrável. Engoli a seco. 
— Você não vai saber quem está me ligando se não for curiosa. É só não bisbilhotar as minhas coisas. Afinal, o que os olhos não vêem, o coração não sente. Não é? — ergueu uma sobrancelha e se afastou de mim, caminhando na direção do nosso quarto, no andar superior ao que estou agora. Suspirei profundamente, passando as mãos pelos cabelos, me sentindo meio estranha por tudo o que ele acabou de me dizer e também arrependida por tudo o que disse.
Ele realmente seria capaz de ir atrás dela?
ATUALMENTE
Depois disso, ele saiu e até agora não voltou. Tudo bem, eu sei, devo tomar mais cuidado com as minhas palavras, até porque eu realmente… Sinto ciúmes. Talvez até o ame, mas não consigo admitir isso em voz alta, é difícil admitir até para mim mesma. Respirei fundo e continuei me encarando no espelho acima da pia, até ouvir um estrondo na porta da frente, o que me fez pular assustada, sentindo meu coração acelerar em poucos segundos. — Mas que merda… — resmunguei para mim mesma, encarando a porta do meu quarto. Um temor assombroso se espalhou por cada célula do meu corpo durante alguns segundos, mas sem perceber, eu dei alguns passos até a porta, tocando a maçaneta.
Saí do quarto e tentei ouvir algo em meio ao silêncio desconfortável que a casa se encontra, com um pouco de medo eu caminhei até as escadas, descendo uma a uma, vagarosamente. Pensei que talvez os seguranças de meu marido nunca deixariam um estranho passar pelo portão de entrada do condomínio de Zayn, por isso eu tomei coragem para descer até o último degrau, observando algumas marcas no chão, estas que percebi serem de sangue. Arregalei os olhos e segui a pequena trilha até a cozinha, encontrei o moreno de costas para mim, tomando um copo com água.
Há uma pistola ao seu lado no balcão e todo o seu corpo está coberto com sangue fresco, posso sentir o cheiro daqui. Zayn parece ter mergulhado em uma piscina de sangue, suas roupas estão tão encharcadas que chega a pingar repetidas vezes no assoalho. — Ainda acordada? — sua voz rouca irradiou pela cozinha que até então estava mergulhada no mais completo silêncio. Engoli a seco e me aproximei um pouco mais, porém não cheguei tão perto.
— O que aconteceu? — indaguei, trêmula. Zayn terminou de tomar a sua água e se virou para mim, quando vi seu rosto, posso jurar que meu coração parou de bater por alguns segundos. Ele está repleto de cortes e seu nariz apresenta uma contusão feia. — Zayn…
— Não fique tão alegre, a maior parte deste sangue não me pertence. — fez piada e ao se afastar do balcão para tentar sair andando, ele cambaleou um pouco e eu me apressei em segurá-lo para que não encontrasse o chão.
— Zayn, eu… Eu não estou alegre com nada disso. — expliquei sinceramente, me esforçando para conseguir aguentar com o seu peso. — Vamos lá para cima, você precisa de um banho. — disse já começando a caminhar de volta às escadas
— O quê? Vai cuidar de mim? — seu tom surpreso e levemente sacana me fez bufar.
— Não, apenas te jogar na banheira e aí você se vira com o resto. — respondi ironicamente e ele preferiu ficar em silêncio. Chegamos ao nosso quarto depois de muito trabalho, o guiei até o banheiro, sentando-o no sanitário para que pudesse despí-lo. — Vai me dizer o que aconteceu ou não?
— Só matei alguns filhos da puta que já me queriam morto, não há novidade nenhuma nisso. — respondeu baixo e quando o olhei, percebi que faz um esforço a mais para manter os olhos abertos
— Você bateu a cabeça? — questionei preocupada e Zayn ergueu o olhar para me encarar
— Algumas vezes. — disse com um meio sorriso, encarando a minha boca sem nenhuma vergonha.
— Puta merda. — resmunguei e me afastei um pouco para retirar seus sapatos, as meias e a calça também. — Espere aqui, vou encher a banheira. — mordi o lábio e abri a torneira para enchê-la, jogando alguns sais para criar um pouco de espuma. A todo momento sinto o olhar de Zayn queimar em minhas costas, me deixando um pouco sem graça. Assim que acabou, voltei para o guiar até a banheira, mas ele me impediu. — O quê?
— Tem que tirar o resto das minhas roupas. — falou me olhando no fundo dos olhos, se referindo a sua boxer. Engoli a seco de novo, concordando. Segurei-a pelas laterais, a puxando pelas suas pernas. É a primeira vez que o vejo completamente sem roupas, eu não poderia estar mais nervosa. Para a minha sorte, Zayn não fez nenhuma piadinha sem graça e eu agradeci internamente por isso. Ele sentou na banheira e gemeu baixinho quando eu apoiei-me em seu busto para o ajudar a sentar lá. Estranhei de imediato.
— O que aconteceu aqui? — toquei de leve o local machucado e ele desviou rapidamente
— Não sei, acho que alguma lesão. — falou ao fechar os olhos por alguns segundos.
— Você não pode dormir agora. — eu disse em desespero, me ajoelhando próximo a banheira e pegando a esponja de banho. — Zayn.
— Não estou dormindo, relaxa. — preenchi a esponja com bastante sabão líquido, então segurei seu braço e comecei a esfregar a região delicadamente, fazendo a mesma coisa em seu pescoço e costas, desviando de alguns cortes as vezes. — Tenho uma pergunta aleatória e idiota para o momento, mas é algo que eu realmente tenho curiosidade em saber. — ele comentou depois de um momento em silêncio
— Pode falar.
— Você me odeia? — sua pergunta foi feita de forma tão sincera e preocupada que me fez rir baixinho.
— Não, eu… Eu não te odeio, Zayn. — enruguei as sobrancelhas e evitei o seu olhar, mas isso não durou muito tempo. Zayn me observou por longos segundos, logo encarando os meus lábios e assim ele lambeu os seus.
— Fala sério? — indagou desacreditado
— Sim.
— Achei que me odiasse por ter sido “obrigada” a se casar comigo, faria todo sentido você sentir aversão a mim. — falou enquanto encara as suas pernas.
— Eu posso ter me sentido assim a seu respeito, mas isso foi no começo de tudo, Zayn. — explico em um sussurro, ainda me sentindo envergonhada
— Tudo bem, eu entendo. — ficamos por um momento em silêncio absoluto, seu corpo já se encontrava mais limpo, mas não parei de esfregá-lo.
— Você não vai perguntar o que eu sinto por você? — perguntei confusa
— Não. Agora não. — respondeu, suspirando — Eu não estou no meu melhor estado mental no momento, estou cansado, minha cabeça está zonza e eu não quero esquecer de nada. — concordei e decidi ficar quieta, então não falamos mais nada. Comecei a passar a esponja por seu busto, sua barriga e a medida que eu descia mais, tentava não encarar o seu pau, olhando-o durante todo o processo mas eu já deveria saber que isso não daria certo. Acabei esbarrando com ele e imediatamente senti minhas bochechas esquentarem.
— Me desculpa. — lamentei, quase engasgando em minha própria saliva. Minha mão ainda estava perto, mas ao tentar afastá-la, Zayn segurou-a firmemente, mantendo-me perto de seu pau, que já estava parcialmente duro. Este último detalhe eu já havia percebido antes, mas preferi ignorar. — Zayn. — chamei-o numa urgência estranha, minha respiração já está ofegante e eu não sei ao menos o porquê.
Ele não falou nada, apenas tirou a esponja da minha mão e a guiou para que pudesse agarrar o seu comprimento. O senti como se vibrasse sob meus dedos, Zayn não largou a minha mão, muito pelo contrário, ele passou a movimentá-la em sua volta, fechando os olhos e liberando uma grande quantidade de ar que prendia nos pulmões. Um gemido rouco escapou dos seus lábios à medida que nossas mãos aumentavam a velocidade, subindo e descendo em um ritmo que parece ser tão gostoso, sei disso pela forma como ele geme o meu nome, como pendeu um pouco a sua cabeça para trás mediante o prazer que sente. — S/N… — ele gemeu o meu nome como se esperasse por isso há anos, eu mordi meu lábio com mais força e em algum momento, Zayn soltou a minha mão e eu continuei a estimulá-lo, sem parar por um segundo.
Acariciei a sua glande, a pressionando com meu polegar repetidas vezes, massageando aquele ponto até mesmo com a palma de minha mão, este movimento fez com que Zayn gemesse mais alto, revirando os olhos, se esforçando arduamente para mantê-los abertos. Sua mão agarrou o meu braço, o apertando como se sua vida dependesse disso. Gemidos e súplicas roucas escapam de sua garganta, Zayn ergue o quadril algumas vezes na direção de minha mão, eu sorrio com a cena, sentindo meu interior se revirar pois mesmo que imaginasse momentos assim com ele, nunca pensei que poderia ser tão mais gostoso do que em meus mais depravados sonhos.
Com minha mão livre passei a acariciar suas bolas, Zayn mordeu o lábio com força e gemeu de dor por causa de um pequeno corte que havia ali, mas não parou. Ele me olhou nos olhos e ao segurar o meu pescoço, trouxe-me para mais perto e finalmente me beijou. Senti um arrepio subir por minha espinha, nunca imaginei que beijá-lo seria tão bom. Ele mordeu o meu lábio e o sugou com força, sua língua entrou em minha boca e eu me aproveitei disso, sentia sua dificuldade em controlar o beijo, sua respiração está ofegante. Nos afastamos e eu, tomada pelo tesão, comecei a beijar seu pescoço, sua bochecha, mordi a cartilagem de sua orelha. A boca de meu marido ficou grudada ao meu ouvido, o ouvia gemer o meu nome, rouco e necessitado, admitindo o quanto sonhou com isso, o que aumentou o meu ego de forma avassaladora.
— Mais rápido. — ele pediu dengoso, ainda próximo ao meu ouvido. Concordei sem emitir som algum, mantendo o ritmo inicial, sem parar. Não demorou tanto para que ele começasse a demonstrar indícios do seu orgasmo. Um gemido mais alto escapou de sua boca e quando dei por mim, ele já estava gozando em minha mão, encarei a cena estática, realmente embasbacada com os últimos acontecimentos. — Porra. — resmungou, logo em seguida puxando com força o ar entre os dentes.
— Eu… — tentei falar algo, me sentindo culpada e envergonhada por ter feito isso. Me afastei um pouco e o olhei no fundo dos olhos, um pequeno sorriso ameaça crescer em seus lábios, o que me deixa ainda mais apreensiva. — Me desculpa, eu não- — seus lábios se chocaram nos meus uma outra vez, me interrompendo.
— Não peça desculpas, você não fez nada de errado. — ele sussurrou a resposta, acariciando a minha bochecha — Você não imagina o quanto eu sonhei em beijar você assim. — admitiu olhando-me atentamente, o peso do seu olhar me trouxe arrepios
— Me desculpa por ter te tratado como tratei mais cedo e desde que nos casamos, eu só… — suspirei, selando nossos lábios — Eu só estava confusa, não conseguia lidar com meus sentimentos.
— Tudo bem, gatinha. — Zayn sorriu lindamente para mim — Eu sei exatamente como se sente.
· · ·
Despertei com o cantar dos pássaros no jardim ao lado de fora, a fraquinha luz do sol entrando pela janela, iluminando uma boa parte do quarto escuro. Suspirei profundamente, passando as mãos pelo meu lado na cama, sentindo-o vazio e frio, sinal que de já faz tempo que Zayn saiu. Bufei irritada, me levantando com certa preguiça, me sentando na cama. Coçei os olhos, olhando em volta, me espreguiçando.
Encontrei uma camisa do Zayn pendurada em uma poltrona no canto do quarto, me levantei e a vesti, não sairia apenas de roupas íntimas (fiquei dessa forma por insistência dele). Ao dar uma rápida passada no banheiro para escovar os dentes e fazer minhas necessidades, me dirigi até a saída do quarto, com a intenção de o procurar em seu escritório, que é o único lugar em que poderia estar a uma hora dessas. — Bom dia, Sra. Malik! — Jackson, o mordomo me cumprimentou alegremente ao nos encontrarmos no corredor. O mesmo me olhou de cima a baixo, suas bochechas se tornaram vermelhas em poucos segundos ao perceber a minha situação — Oh, me desculpe. — ele se virou, caminhando para longe de mim — Só queria dizer que o café da manhã já será servido. — ameaçou ir embora, mas eu o impedi.
— Espere! Onde está meu marido? — questionei e ele me olhou brevemente, evitando encarar o meu corpo. Sorri.
— Ele está em seu escritório, senhora. — concordei e caminhei na direção do cômodo em questão. Bati algumas vezes na porta e ao ouvir a ordem para entrar, o fiz, observando-o próximo ao parapeito da sacada, fumando um cigarro.
— Sabe que fumar não faz bem, principalmente à essa hora. Você ao menos tomou café da manhã? — ele negou, se virando para mim. Zayn está sem camisa, veste apenas uma calça moletom.
— Não me faz tanto mal, estou acostumado. — revirei os olhos perante esta desculpa fajuta. Me aproximei e fiquei ao seu lado, observando o jardim e a fonte maravilhosa que há no meio dele. Está vazio a esta hora, os jardineiros que trabalham aqui ainda não chegaram.
— Você está se sentindo melhor? — comentei observando-o atenciosamente
— Sim, já me sinto melhor. Muito melhor. — disse ao dar de ombros, percebi que seu rosto também está inchado em alguns pontos, mas nada tão absurdo. — Mas me diga, o que veio fazer aqui? Quer alguma coisa? — indagou me observando atento, soprando a fumaça.
— Sim. — na verdade, não sei bem como poderia dizer-lhe que não consigo tirar da mente o que fizemos mais cedo, pela madrugada. Eu não consigo tirar da mente a textura dos seus lábios, o gosto do seu beijo.
— O que é? — questionou confuso, jogando fora o resto do cigarro. Mordi o lábio e após dar alguns poucos passos na sua direção, eu passei minhas mãos por seus ombros, acariciando seu pescoço com a ponta de meus dedos. — S/N? — não lhe respondi, apenas uni nossos lábios em um beijo calmo, esperando a sua reação. Zayn obviamente ficou surpreso pela minha ação, mas logo circulou minha cintura com os braços, me trazendo para mais perto.
Começamos a nos envolver nesta carícia, com uma das mãos, ele agarrou a parte de trás do meu pescoço, agarrando os fios com os dedos, os puxando para que meu rosto chegasse mais perto do seu, o que me fez gemer baixinho contra sua boca. Nos afastamos um pouco em busca de ar, então mordi seu lábio inferior e fiquei na ponta dos pés para poder beijar sua bochecha, mandíbula e pescoço, sugando a sua pele com certa delicadeza, inalando o seu cheiro delicioso. Zayn não esperou muito, me empurrou até a parede mais próxima, agarrando a camiseta, arrancando-a de meu corpo sem delicadeza alguma. Pude ouvir até o tecido estalar um pouco. — Mhm, Z… — gemi o seu nome, nossas bocas estão bem próximas, então eu o selei algumas vezes, tocando também a extremidade de sua calça, a puxando para baixo com certa dificuldade.
Ele terminou de tirar a calça com os pés, me puxando para longe da parede para que desatasse o fecho do meu sutiã, o arrancando de mim, jogando no chão. — Zayn, aqui… Aqui não, podem nos ver. — ele beijou meu pescoço, e eu encarei o jardim lá embaixo, temendo realmente que nos vissem em um momento tão íntimo. — Porra. — grunhi com o incômodo de uma sucção sua em um ponto estratégico de meu pescoço, este que me fez amolecer, revirando os olhos em puro deleite.
— Você sabe que ninguém chega agora, não sabe? — questionou baixo, sem se afastar de mim — Eu quero fazer aqui. Você não? — dei de ombros, sem forças para negar qualquer coisa a ele. Zayn sorriu satisfeito, fazendo menção de me tomar em seus braços, mas eu o impedi. — O que foi?
— Quero fazer algo por você. — falei baixo, tomando seu rosto em minhas mãos, acariciando a sua barba. — Você quer?
— Eu quero qualquer coisa que você queira fazer por mim. — respondeu-me no mesmo tom, me puxando para um beijo rápido.
Ajoelhei-me perante ele, mas antes disso, deixei um beijo em cada um de seus seios, circulando a minha língua por ambos, mas não prolongando muito esta carícia. Plantei um beijo em seu íntimo por cima da boxer que ele usa, encarando seus olhos âmbar no processo, ele sorri de lado, pondo uma das mãos em meu cabelo, acariciando-o. — Eu já falei, mas vou comentar de novo… — começou, suspirando pesadamente. — Sonhei muito com esse momento, você não imagina o quanto. — comentou manhoso, eu apenas sorri e retirei a peça que o impedia de, novamente, estar nú diante dos meus olhos. Encarei-o cuidadosamente, o segurando pela base, arrastando minha mão por todo seu comprimento, estimulando-o relativamente devagar, com a intenção de deixá-lo mais excitado. Beijei a sua ponta, deslizando a minha língua por ela, a deixando mais escorregadia para que pudesse massageá-la com meu polegar, repetindo o mesmo movimento diversas vezes, o que fez com que Zayn arrulhasse, apoiando-se na parede atrás de mim.
O estimulei com a mão por longos segundos, “lubrificando-o” com o pré-sêmen que vaza de sua ponta, o levei a minha boca depois de um tempo dessa forma, o sugando sem pressa alguma, empurrando tudo o que cabia dentro de mim, levei o máximo que pude e fiz tudo devagar no começo para não acabar engasgando. Zayn murmurou alguns palavrões que não consegui ouvi direito, se mantendo paciente até que eu me acostumasse com ele, mas sua paciência não durou tanto. Ele agarrou o meu cabelo, o amarrando em um rabo-de-cavalo súbito, os puxando com força, o que me fez grunhir de dor.
Meus movimentos passaram a ser controlados por ele, segurei as suas coxas para manter-me equilibrada, Zayn já havia tomado o controle da situação, fodendo a minha boca em uma velocidade gradativa, foi aumentando a cada segundo que passava. O sentia tocar o mais fundo de minha garganta algumas vezes, isto me fez engasgar um pouco, até já começava a sentir um pouco de saliva escorrer por meu queixo, mas nem isso o fez parar. Meus olhos já lacrimejam descontroladamente, o olhei com dificuldade e percebi que também encarava-me, Um sorriso sádico estampou seus lábios, este que não durou muito, pois ele mordeu o inferior, revirando os olhos e resmungando baixo, algo que novamente não consegui entender.
— Caralho. — xingou em alto e bom som desta vez, com as pernas tremendo ele buscou se apoiar melhor com um dos braços livres, fechou os olhos e finalmente entregou o controle da situação em minhas mãos de novo, continuei seguindo o seu ritmo, mas tive que me afastar por um momento para poder respirar; entretanto, continuei o estimulando com minhas mãos, os movimentos se tornaram mais fáceis e lisos, por isso consegui o masturbar mais rápido, o som de minha mão em contato com sua pele é alto e o mais pornográfico que já pude escutar, mas, de alguma forma, isso me atrai de maneira surreal. — Não pare. — me implorou, da mesma forma de ontem, me fazendo sentir minhas entranhas pulsarem pelo desejo ardente de tê-lo dentro de mim. Zayn joga seu quadril contra meu rosto, atingindo minha garganta em cheio, mas isso não durou muito, pois logo seu esperma escorria por meu esôfago e automaticamente sua pressa e desespero por alívio cessou, tornando audível apenas o som da sua respiração. — Levante. — ordenou, se afastando para em dar espaço para que eu fizesse o que me pediu.
Assim o fiz, e após me encarar por alguns segundos, Zayn me puxou até uma mesa que há já na parte de dentro de seu escritório, por sorte, nem longe da sacada. Ele conseguiu me tomar em seus braços dessa vez, agarrei-o com as minhas pernas para me manter firme, então ele se curvou próximo a mesa, jogando no chão todos os lápis, canetas e papéis que haviam ali, me jogando na mesma com certa delicadeza para não me machucar. — Abra as pernas. — exigiu e eu o obedeci, sem ao menos esperar que ele terminasse. Zayn sorriu e acariciou-me por cima de minha calcinha, sentindo a umidade sobre seus dedos. Ele não demorou tanto para a arrancar de meu corpo, a jogando em qualquer lugar de novo.
Meu marido se curvou sobre a mesa, beijando meus seios e minha barriga, chupando a minha pele com brutalidade, sem fazer a mínima questão de ser gentil. Seus dedos escovaram sobre meu clitóris, o apertando, massageando-o com precisão, rodeando a minha entrada, sem necessariamente penetrá-la, me levando a loucura. — Zayn! — chamei a sua atenção, erguendo o meu quadril na sua direção, em busca de ainda mais contato.
— Cale a boca. — resmungou rígido, estalando o indicador lá, o que me fez gritar pelo susto e pela necessidade de tê-lo dentro de mim. — Muito bom saber que você não se importa que nos ouçam, amor. — debochou da situação, finalmente empurrando dois de seus dedos para dentro de mim, o que me fez recuar os quadris pelo susto, mas ele me trouxe de volta, me pressionando contra a mesa. — Fica quieta, porra! — rosnou e acertou um tapa em minha coxa, este que doeu triplamente por causa de seus anéis, mas não gritei e nem esbocei reação alguma - com bastante esforço.
Ele beijou um ponto abaixo do meu umbigo e eu até prendi a respiração por pensar que iria finalmente usar a sua boca para me satisfazer, mas o que fez foi morder o canto interno de ambas as minhas coxas, me provocando. Apertei com força os dedos dos pés, os apoiando na borda da mesa, arrastando-me um pouco mais para cima para centralizar seu rosto entre minhas pernas. Revirei os olhos e de novo me vi erguendo meu quadril em sua direção, Zayn me ignorou e fez tudo do seu jeito, acariciando com a sua mão livre a minha vulva, expondo-me para que sua língua pudesse deslizar por minha extensão, sufoquei um grito quando ele sugou o meu clitóris com os lábios. — Zayn… — clamei por ele novamente, uma urgência inexplicável em meu tom de voz, o que meio que foi como gasolina lançada a uma pequena chama de fogo.
Zayn passou a me estimular com mais rapidez, seus dedos trabalham mais arduamente em meu interior, assim como sua língua, que explora pontos de mim aos quais nunca imaginei que poderiam me proporcionar tanto prazer. Me contorço sobre a mesa, sem conseguir conter a mim mesma mediante a tanto deleite, apertei as bordas da mesa, buscando algo que pudesse descontar tudo o que sinto, mas somente encontrei os cabelos negros de meu marido e não poupei esforços, os puxei com força, ao mesmo tempo que empurrava a sua cabeça na direção do meu baixo ventre, desesperadamente em busca de mais, sedenta por tudo o que Zayn pode me dar agora.
Passei a rebolar contra seu rosto, então tudo pareceu parar. Foi como se apenas nós dois fôssemos corpos ativos em todo o universo. Não conseguia mais conter meus gritos e súplicas para que ele não parasse, sentia como se fosse morrer caso ele ao menos diminuísse a intensidade de tudo o que estava a fazer. — Não para, por favor! — choraminguei, quase engasgando em minhas próprias lágrimas, estas que escorrem por minhas bochechas sem que eu possa controlar. Novamente me vejo revirando os olhos, mordendo os lábios, sentindo um frio avassalador no estômago. Totalmente fora de mim, eu passei a massagear os meus seios, e para isso, liberei os cabelos de Zayn e gemi mais alto com a sensação maravilhosa que este ato me trouxe. Zayn percebeu o que eu fazia, mas não fez nada para me impedir e eu agradeci internamente por isso
Ao liberar uma de minhas mãos, ele a pegou e levou até meu clitóris e não precisou dizer nada para que eu entendesse o que era pra ser feito. Comecei a me estimular e este foi literalmente o estopim para que eu gozasse em seu rosto e dedos, sem conseguir segurar isso por muito mais tempo. Um gemido mais fraco deixou-me, então eu relaxei sobre a mesa, Zayn se ergueu e sorriu para mim, trilhando beijos até que chegasse ao meu rosto, onde mordeu meu queixo suavemente, beijando meus lábios repetidas vezes. — Você é uma delícia. — denotou sacana, esticando o meu lábio inferior. — Acha que aguenta mais um? — me questionou ao sugar a pele de meu pescoço de novo, me desafiando, como se não acreditasse que eu realmente posso aguentar o que vem a seguir. Semicerrei os olhos e ao perceber que já havia recuperado o meu fôlego, ergui minha cabeça para olhá-lo nos olhos e dizer:
— Só vai saber se me comer. — comentei o olhando profundamente, percebendo um sorriso sacana pintar seus lábios em poucos segundos. Zayn me pegou no colo e nos guiou até o parapeito da sacada de novo, mas dessa vez, me debruçou sobre a mesma, de forma que ficasse de costas para ele. — O que você…-
— E eu vou... Aqui mesmo. — abri a boca para tentar falar algo, até ergui o pescoço para protestar, mas Zayn segurou meus cabelos em um monte e empurrou-me para baixo, de forma que eu ficasse com minha cabeça curvada. — E não adianta reclamar, querida. Quanto acha que dariam pelo show que daremos agora? — seu tom de voz é sarcástico e perverso, mas não me atrevi a dizer mais nada. Com a mão livre, Zayn acariciou suavemente uma de minhas nádegas, não demorando a alinhar-se em minha cavidade, empurrando sua pelve na direção da minha, entrando em mim lentamente.
Automaticamente, meus lábios se entreabriram minimamente, pequenos e discretos gemidos me deixam, uma mistura de desconforto e prazer me deixa inquieta, ao mesmo tempo que quero que ele seja bruto e rápido, sinto que não aguentaria e preciso que seja paciente. Por sorte, Zayn já sabe de tudo isso e começou a se movimentar dentro de mim devagar, entrando e saindo em um ritmo torturante, mas que me fez ver estrelas em apenas alguns instantes. — Céus… — resmunguei tomada pelo tesão que sinto, não consigo ao menos expressar em palavras o mix de sensações que me invadem, só sei que é bom demais e eu não deveria ter perdido tanto tempo. — Zayn, por favor. — choraminguei depois de sentir que estava pronta, apertei-o em torno de mim, revirando os olhos por estar sendo tão deliciosamente preenchida por seu pau.
— Me deixa só… Caralho. — Zayn soltou meus cabelos e passou apenas a segurar minha cintura, aos poucos ele foi aumentando a velocidade de seus quadris, mas sem ser tão violento. — Merda.
— Mais rápido. — pedi manhosa, movendo meu quadril juntamente com o seu, rebolando à medida que ele desliza para dentro e fora de mim. Zayn grunhiu e pressionou suas unhas na pele de minha cintura, o que me fez gritar mais alto, xingando algo que ao menos pensei antes de pronunciar. — Zayn... — clamei por ele, apenas aproveitando a sensação de chamar pelo seu nome, não vou mentir e ser tão egoísta ao ponto de dizer que nunca sonhei com esse momento porque eu sonhava mas preferia a morte ao admitir em voz alta.
— S/N. — gemeu o meu nome rouco, posso ouvir nitidamente o som de seu pau escorregando para dentro de mim, este som é tão gostoso quanto a sensação de abrigá-lo. Não tive coragem de erguer o olhar para o jardim, mas quando o fiz, percebi que já haviam algumas pessoas transitando por ali, mas nenhuma delas se atreveu a olhar para nós dois.
— Zayn, a gente não deve… Ah. — meu coração afunda no peito com a possibilidade de ser assistida por essas pessoas, ao mesmo tempo que me soe absurda, também é excitante o perigo de sermos flagrados, o que de certa forma torna tudo mais gostoso. Eu não deveria pensar assim, os pensamentos depravados de Zayn já estão me contaminando — Cacete, eu…
— Cala a porra da boca. — rosnou e emaranhou os dedos em meus cabelos novamente, puxando os fios com força para cima. Havia curvado a minha cabeça para não precisar encarar as pessoas, mas ele me fez olhá-los de novo, se aproximando de meu ouvido. — Observe-os, amor. Mas não se preocupe, todos esses filhos da puta sabem que não devem sequer pensar em olhar pra cá. Sabe por quê? — questionou e como eu não o respondi imediatamente, recebi um puxão de cabelo que me fez gritar de dor — Me responda, caralho!
— N-não, Zayn. Eu não sei. — respondi com muita dificuldade, sentindo meu corpo tremer e suar ainda mais com a aproximação do meu limite. — Eu não vou aguentar mais. — avisei e o senti morder a cartilagem de minha orelha
— Eles não podem olhar pra cá porque sabem que se fizerem isso… — pulei de susto com o ardor de um tapa que foi diferido em minha bunda — Será a última coisa que eles verão na porra de suas vidas.
— Zayn, eu- — ergui meus olhos para tentar perceber quem chegava, pois posso ter certeza que vi e ouvi o som de um carro se aproximando
— Ah, temos que ser rápidos aqui, babe… — ele comentou e então, não demorou tanto para que chegássemos ao clímax juntos, gemendo em conjunto os nomes um do outro. Já sentia lágrimas deslizando por minhas bochechas de novo, nem ao menos tive forças para me afastar da sacada, Zayn fez isso por mim. — Seus pais chegaram. — disse com um sorriso orgulhoso, vestindo as suas roupas rapidamente, depois de as pegar do chão.
— O quê? O que eles querem? — indaguei sem entender nada, não sabia que eles viriam, eu ao menos me preparei. — Preciso tomar um banho, eu-
— Ei, ei… Não se preocupe. — me tranquilizou ao se aproximar e selar nossos lábios — Eles só vieram tomar café da manhã conosco, acabei esquecendo de te avisar.
— Zayn...
— E não precisa tomar um banho, não temos tempo para isso. — ele me ajudou com minhas roupas, me vestindo com a sua camiseta.
— Não vou receber meus pais desse jeito!
— Você pode tomar banho depois. — sorriu para mim. Bufei e não vi outra alternativa a não ser fazer o que ele disse. Caminhamos juntos até as escadas, ao menos desci todas e já vi minha mãe cruzar o hall de entrada da minha casa.
— Oi, mãe. — a cumprimentei de longe, mas me aproximei para lhe dar um abraço, este que foi bem retribuído.
— Oi, filha. Como você está? — questionou com um meio sorriso, me analisando de cima a baixo. Meu pai veio logo em seguida, e fez a mesma varredura por todo o meu corpo. — O que estavam fazendo?
— Ah, você quer mesmo saber? — Zayn devolveu a pergunta em um tom risonho. Senti minhas bochechas pegarem fogo.
— O que aconteceu com você? — minha genitora perguntou ao encará-lo, assustada por ele estar machucado.
— Acho que essa resposta é óbvia.
— Você- — meu pai ameaçou falar algo para mim, mas seus olhos caíram sobre meu pescoço, arregalei os olhos e passei as mãos por ele, em desespero por saber que Zayn me marcou e eu ao menos lembrei deste detalhe. — Filha, achei que você não iria…
— Pai.
— S/N, achei que sua intenção fosse não se envolver com este homem. — ambos encararam meu marido com certo receio, mas eu suspirei e fechei os olhos por um momento, tentando manter a paciência com eles.
— Mãe, Zayn é o meu marido. Vocês queriam desse jeito, não queriam? — questionei como se fosse óbvio. Dei alguns passos para trás até estar perto dele de novo, e então entrelacei nossos dedos.
— Sim, mas… S/N, viemos aqui para te levar de volta para casa. — meu pai revelou e então respirou fundo — Achamos que não seria certo você estar com alguém que não ama, Zayn concordou com isso tudo. — enruguei as sobrancelhas e olhei para Malik incrédula, soltando a sua mão.
— Você concordou?! — perguntei em um tom mais alto e ele assentiu, sorrindo minimamente.
— Sim, achei que você não quisesse estar aqui. — explicou pacificamente
— Mas, Zayn...
— Olha, se você não quiser ir, não vai. Eu não quero te obrigar a nada, S/A. Te darei o direito de escolher, não quero que passe sua vida inteira achando que foi obrigada a estar casada comigo e permanecer morando aqui. — Zayn parece bastante convencido com este assunto, mas eu já tomei a minha decisão.
— E então? — minha mãe perguntou com um sorriso, provavelmente jurando que voltarei para casa.
— Eu não quero ir. — disse simples, encarando meus genitores — Quero ficar aqui.
— Mas...
— Mas nada, pai! Eu não vou embora, agora quem não quer ir sou eu. Não adianta insistir. — determinei, não os dando opções a não ser acatar a minha decisão.
— É sério? — Zayn perguntou abismado
— Sim.
— Ótimo, então não tem mais o que discutir. — ele sorriu para mim, se aproximando e me abraçando pelos ombros. — Vamos tomar café? A mesa está posta lá fora, no jardim.
✦✦✦
30 notes · View notes
Note
14,16,4 e 6
Angst e fluff (pq são meu favoritos), pode ser algo mal entendido da parte dela ou algo do tipo, sabe? Uma briga com ele fazendo de tudo para reconciliar. Final feliz, com muito dengo e sem sexo, por favor.
Bjao ❤️❤️❤️
Frases: Você não tem que ficar./ Eu quero./ Nada é tão bom quanto voltar para casa para você./ Nada é tão bom quanto ter você vindo para casa para mim./ É isso que você pensa de mim?/Como faço para você me amar de novo?
NotaAutora: Uma das minhas seguidoras mais presente por aqui, muito obrigada pelo seu pedido, demorou mais do que deveria, mas não pude deixar de fazê-lo, aproveite.
🌼 MASTERLIST CONCEPT 🌼
Tumblr media
HARRY CONCEPT #20
  
Você estava sentada na sala de seu apartamento compartilhado com Harry esperando-o se trocar para verem um filme. Ele chegou cansado e precisava de um banho.
Você rolava pelo catálogo da Netflix procurando algo quando ouviu o celular de Harry vibrando, ele havia deixado na mesinha de centro, você não queria olhar, mas uma nova mensagem tocou e mais uma, o que te deixou intrigada, pegando o telefone instantaneamente, desbloqueou o telefone, ambos tinham a senha um do outro e abriu a conversa. 
Julie: Tem certeza que ela não descobriu?
Julie: Não acredito que ela não tem ideia, você sempre foi um péssimo mentiroso.
Julie: A reserva do hotel já está feita! Até o fim de semana!😘
Quem era essa Julie? 
Você nunca ouviu falar dela, e Harry disse que teria que trabalhar no fim de semana.
Sua mente estava acelerada, só havia uma explicação lógica para a conversa que acabara de ler, certo? 
Harry era um filho da puta traidor.
O ar pareceu faltar em seus pulmões.
— Bebê, o que foi? Você está bem?
— Como você pôde fazer isso comigo, Harry? — Acusou-o quase num grito.
— O que eu fiz? — Recuou surpreso com toda situação.
 Você pegou o telefone jogando em seu peito.
— Você leu minhas mensagens? — Ele parecia irritado agora. — Cadê a confiança um no outro que dissemos que teríamos?
— É sério que quer falar em confiança? Você está me traindo e quer falar sobre confiar um no outro?
— Do que você está falando?
— Julie — Cuspiu o nome dela.
— S/n, não é o que você pensa.
— Não quero ouvir suas desculpas estúpidas.— Rapidamente começou a catar qualquer coisa que fosse sua, sua bolsa, chaves, celular.
— S/n! Espera! Para onde você está indo? 
— Para qualquer outro lugar que seja bem longe de você.
— S/n! Julie não é o que você pensa, me deixa explicar. — Única resposta que ele teve foi a porta da frente batendo.
Você saiu correndo de lá com lágrimas escorrendo pelo rosto, não sabendo exatamente para onde ir, era tão difícil pensar agora, tudo o que sua mente pensava era Harry lhe traindo e todas as maneiras possíveis. Mitch e Sarah não moravam muito longe dali e, alguns minutos longos de caminhada, lá estava você batendo na porta deles.
— Hei S/n! — Sarah, com um sorriso, lhe atendeu. — Querida, o que aconteceu? — O sorriso desapareceu no instante em que a viu em prantos.
Sem pensar duas vezes, você pulou em seus braços chorando, seu mundo estava desabando, não conseguia conter as lágrimas.
— S/n, vamos entre. — Suas mãos acariciavam delicadamente suas costas. — Por que você não me conta o que está acontecendo? 
— Tudo bem. — A seguiu para dentro. 
— Então o que aconteceu? — Perguntou assim que sentaram no sofá.
— Harry me traiu. 
— O quê?! — Mitch misteriosamente apareceu na porta. 
— Querido! Pode nos dar alguns minutos?
— Tudo bem, ele pode ficar. — Mitch prontamente sentou ao lado de Sarah, atento. — Eu realmente pensei que as coisas seriam diferentes com Harry, não sei por que confiei tanto nele. 
— Mas como exatamente aconteceu? — Sarah pareceu incrédula, mas era óbvio vindo de sua amiga.
— Eu vi mensagens no celular dele, uma tal de Julie. 
— Mas você ter certeza disso? Harry nunca faria isso. — Mitch o defendeu. 
— Eu vi as mensagens, essa tal de Julie disse, nossa não acredito que ela não desconfia, ainda reservou um hotel super luxuoso nesse fim de semana, mas ele disse para mim que ia trabalhar, eles vão se encontrar, quer mais provas que isso?
— É realmente suspeito, mas pode ser um engano, não pode? Não acho que Harry poderia fazer algo assim, ele te ama, ele te ama muito. — Sarah segurou sua mão.
— Eu já nem sei mais no que acreditar.
— Tenho certeza que há uma razão para isso, sei o que pode parecer, mas tente ficar mais calma e depois conversar com ele. — Aconselhou ela.
— Tudo bem, me desculpe vir assim, eu não tinha para onde ir.
— Sem problemas, sabe que sempre pode contar conosco, se precisar de uns dias para pensar, Mitch pode arrumar o quarto de hóspedes para você.
— Tem certeza?
— Claro. — Sarah deu um sorriso suave. — Querido, arrume o quarto, por favor?
— Tudo bem, mas não falem nada importante sem mim.
— Vai logo fofoqueiro. — Sarah disse fazendo todos rir.
… 
Na manhã seguinte tudo pareceu estranho, era estranho não dormir em casa, não dormir com Harry. Você chorou a noite toda por ele, sua cabeça doía, o cansaço dominava seu corpo, que teve que se arrastar para sair da cama.
— Bom dia. — Pareceu na cozinha depois que Sarah a chamou para o café.
Dois passos para dentro do local foram o suficiente para ter o vislumbre do homem alto, olhos verdes tão cansados quanto os seus, cabisbaixo ao lado do Mitch.
— Amor.
— Não me chame assim.
— S/n, podemos conversar? 
— Não quero ouvir nada de você, seu traidor de merda.
— Mitch vamos — Sarah puxou seu marido para fora da cozinha. — Tenta ouvir ele, por favor. — Deixou um beijo em sua bochecha antes de saírem.
— É isso que você pensa de mim?
— E como mais eu poderia pensar depois de ontem?
— Você nem ao menos me deu a chance de explicar. — Levantou-se indo até você.
— Já disse que não quero explicações, eu não quero ouvir como o problema não era eu e que foi um erro, eu não quero ouvir nada.
— Eu não trai você. — Segurou suas mãos mesmo relutando. — Eu não trai você, eu nunca faria isso, eu amo você.
— Eu já nem sei se eu amo você depois disso.
— Como faço para você me amar de novo?
— Não sei se pode.
— Você não pode ter parado de amar de um dia para outro, então me diga como consertar isso?! Eu quero falar sobre a Julie.
— Ok, vá em frente, tente me convencer que está dizendo a verdade.
— Ela é uma amiga, na verdade, uma amiga da família, que faz eventos mais íntimos para minha família desde que me conheço por gente. Eu pedi para ela reservar um hotel bem romântico para esse final de semana.
— E por que disse para mim que ia trabalhar?
— Porque era uma surpresa, eu... Eu ia te pedir em casamento.
— Você o quê? — Seus olhos se arregalaram.
Então era um pedido de casamento?
Ele não traiu você?
— Desculpa, eu estraguei tudo, eu relutei para falar de Julie por isso, acredita em mim agora?
— Harry! — Você não sabia direito como digerir isso. — Me desculpe, eu realmente errei em acusar você e não deixar você se explicar, eu não deveria ter olhado seu celular também, sinto muito, eu estraguei tudo. — Você se sentou no chão, chorando mais uma vez, a culpa agora preenchia seu peito.
Harry sentou-se ao seu lado e a puxou para um abraço apertado, que significou mais do que palavras poderiam expressar.
— Você não estragou, eu ainda amo você, eu continuo aqui.
— Você não tem que ficar.
— Eu quero. 
— Eu te amo.
— Eu te amo mais.
 — Eu gostaria que você me levasse para casa, estou exausta, não consegui dormir só pensando em você.
— Claro, vem. — Harry a ajudou a se levantar.— Mitch e Sarah já podem sair, eu vi vocês aí. — Harry brincou, vendo os olhos curiosos de seus amigos através da patente da porta.
— Mitch é muito curioso.— Ela deu um tapinha em seu marido.
— Então, vocês vão se casar? — Mitch parecia mais entusiasmado que a própria Sarah.
— Bem, ainda não, Harry ainda não propôs. — Deu um olhar de canto para seu namorado.
— Mas eu vou.— Deixou um beijinho no topo da cabeça de sua namorada. — Vamos?
— Vamos!
Na volta para casa, vocês ficaram em silêncio, somente alguns olhares trocados.
— Quer tomar um banho? — Perguntou ele assim que passaram pela porta.
— Sim.
Você foi atrás dele até o banheiro, ele a ajudou com as roupas e depois ambos entram no chuveiro. A água quente escorria sobre os corpos abraçados, apreciando o momento.
— Sinto muito por arruinar a surpresa — Seu olhar triste encontrou o dele. 
— Agora não preciso mais guardar segredo. — Harry deu um beijo suave no topo da sua cabeça. — Sabe que não gosto de ter segredos entre nós.
— Nada é tão bom quanto voltar para casa para você.— Você diz antes de deitar a cabeça em seu peito, fechando os olhos. 
— Nada é tão bom quanto ter você vindo para casa para mim.— Harry abraçou você.
  Ele te amava mais do que tudo no mundo, e mesmo com o pedido de casamento arruinado, ele daria um jeito de que nada o atrapalhasse da próxima vez.
Muito obrigada por ler até aqui! Se gostou fav, reblogue ou deixe uma ask, isso realmente é muito importante para mim 🥺♥️
Taglist: @little-big-fan @say-narry @umadirectioner @harry-sofrida @lanavelstommo
42 notes · View notes
mundodafantasia1d · 13 days
Text
Tumblr media
How a good girl and a bad boy can work
- A casa é bem grande.
- Sim, mas não se preocupe, o seu trabalho vai ser basicamente alimentar o meu filho - a senhora riu e a garota a acompanhou.
- Mãe? - uma voz masculina vinda das escadas chama a atenção delas.
- Quando (s/n) se virou, viu um moreno lindo, ele estava sem camisa e seu corpo era todo tatuado.
- Oi Zayn, até que enfim você acordou, meu filho.
- O que a senhora tá fazendo aqui? - ele coçava os olhos.
- Vim trazer sua nova cozinheira e babá - ele revira os olhos. - Essa é a (s/n), ela vai cuidar de você pra mim.
- Mãe, eu já disse que você tá exagerando, eu não preciso de babá, sou um homem e não uma criança.
- Um homem que não cuida da própria saúde. Não discuta comigo Zayn Malik, eu já contratei a (s/n) e você, por favor, seja educado com ela.
- Desculpa - ele diz para a garota e estende a mão. - Prazer em te conhecer.
Ele finalmente repara na garota, ela era bonita, mas usava uma saia com comprimento abaixo do joelho e um suéter que cobria todo seu colo e tinha um olhar que parecia julgá-lo.
- Olá, senhor - ela respondeu educada e apertou a mão dele.
- Senhor? Não, me chama de Zayn, assim não me sinto um velho de 60 anos - ele diz se jogando no sofá.
- Bom, eu já mostrei a casa para ela e agora já apresentei vocês dois, vou ter que deixá-los, Safaa precisa da minha ajuda - Trisha diz, pegando sua bolsa. - (S/n) qualquer problema, me avise. Zayn me acompanha até o carro, por favor?
- Sim, senhora - ele levanta sem muita vontade e acompanha a mãe.
Já do lado de fora, Trisha se vira para o filho.
- Se comporte, Zayn. (S/n) é uma boa garota, ela é meio inocente pelo que pude perceber, mas é de boa família e cozinha muito bem, eu gostei da garota e não quero ter problemas.
- Nossa mãe, o que você acha que eu vou fazer?
- Você é homem, Zayn, meu filho, mas homem, não dá pra confiar.
- Eu vou me comportar, prometo.
- Acho bom mesmo, agora dá um beijo na sua mãe - ele beija o rosto da mãe e sorri para ela. - Te amo, filho.
- Eu também te amo, mãe - ele abraça ela.
Eles se despedem e Zayn volta para casa encontrando (s/n) parada no meio da sala.
- Senhor - ela chama e ele a encara com a cara fechada. - Desculpa, Zayn.
- Melhor - ele se joga novamente no sofá.
- Eu vou preparar algo para você comer, se me disser o que gosta de comer, irei preparar um cardápio especial para você...
- Valeu, tô morrendo de fome - ele interrompeu a garota.
- Ótimo - ela disse indignada pela interrupção.
(S/n) preparou um lanche para Zayn, deu seu melhor com o que tinha na cozinha, o que não era muito, precisaria fazer compras urgente. 
Ela foi até a sala avisar a ele que já estava tudo pronto, ele ainda se encontrava jogado no sofá, sem camisa, com o celular em mãos.
- Zayn, já tá pronto - ele se levantou e ela tinha que dizer alguma coisa porque aquilo já estava a incomodando. - Olha, eu sei que é sua casa, mas será que dá pra colocar uma camisa? - ele olha pra ela por algum tempo.
- Não, não dá, como você disse, é minha casa.
- Eu sei, mas eu não estou acostumada com homens semi nus… - ele começa a rir e ela fica vermelha, de vergonha e irritação.
- Então, você é mesmo o tipo santinha? 
- Senhor Malik, eu só estou pedindo um pouco de respeito.
- Tá bom, não precisa se irritar - ela respira fundo. - Você vai ter que se acostumar, (s/n), eu quero estar confortável na minha casa e não vou mudar nada só porque você está aqui, entendeu?
- Sim, senhor - ela diz, contrariada.
- Ótimo e pare de me chamar de senhor.
- Desculpa.
Ele passa por ela, que fica ali por alguns segundos tentando se acalmar, era seu primeiro dia, não podia arrumar problemas logo no primeiro dia, precisava do emprego. 
- Isso tá bom - o rapaz comentou enquanto comia.
- Obrigada, poderia estar melhor mas não tem muito na geladeira e nem na despensa, precisa fazer compras.
- Vou te dar um cartão pra ir no mercado e comprar tudo que quiser - ele diz sem se importar.
O restante do dia foi mais tranquilo, ela arrumou a cozinha e depois arrumou suas coisas no quarto. Preparou o jantar com o que tinha, amanhã pela manhã iria ao mercado.
Ela precisou ir até o quarto de Zayn para chamá-lo, bateu timidamente na porta e ele mandou entrar, ela não queria ter que entrar no quarto dele, então abriu a porta e ficou ali.
- Zayn, eu preparei o jantar.
Ele apareceu usando apenas uma toalha enrolada na cintura, seus cabelos estavam molhados e ela imediatamente se virou de costas para ele.
- Não precisa se virar, eu tô de toalha, você é muito careta, sabia?
- O jantar - foi tudo que ela conseguiu dizer.
- Eu já tô descendo.
Ela saiu dali o mais rápido que pôde sem parecer que estava correndo, o que era sua vontade. Lembrou a si mesma que precisava do emprego, não estava acostumada com aquele nível de intimidade mas teria que começar a se acostumar pelo visto.
Zayn desceu para jantar alguns minutos depois, dessa vez ele usava camisa e ela agradeceu mentalmente por isso.
- Não vai comer também?
- Eu como depois. 
- Você pode comer comigo.
- Vamos deixar algo claro, sou sua funcionária, não sua amiga, é melhor que seja tudo bem profissional.
- Se você prefere.
- Eu prefiro, com licença.
Ela o deixou terminar o jantar sozinho e foi arrumar a cozinha. Zayn levou seu prato e ele mesmo lavou, disse que não tinha problemas em ajudar e ela gostou disso.
Seu primeiro dia de trabalho tinha sido um misto de aventuras, mas ela concluiu que não tinha sido tão ruim assim.
No dia seguinte, ela acordou cedo, preparou o café da manhã de Zayn, pegou o cartão que ele tinha dado a ela no dia anterior e foi para a faculdade. Após sua aula, ela passou no supermercado e comprou tudo que estava em sua listinha de compras. 
Depois de guardar tudo em seu devido lugar, ela começou a preparar o almoço de Zayn. Ela ainda não o tinha visto hoje, ele estava trancado no estúdio que tinha em sua casa e ela não quis incomodá-lo. Quando tudo ficou pronto, ela foi procurá-lo, ele não estava mais no estúdio, ela o encontrou perto da piscina fumando.
- Zayn - o chamou e ele se virou, sorrindo para ela.
- (S/n), onde você estava?
- Faculdade, eu avisei à sua mãe que nas manhãs eu tenho que ir à faculdade.
- Sem problemas - a fumaça em seu rosto a incomodava, ela odiava aquilo e isso devia ter ficado claro no rosto dela porque Zayn percebeu. - Algum  problema?
- Eu não gosto disso - não deveria ter dito nada, mas não se aguentou.
- Que pena, mas se eu fumo ou não não é da sua conta, então não fique me olhando com esse seu olhar de julgamento.
- Isso faz mal pra sua saúde - ela diz indignada.
- (S/n), você mesma disse, aqui você é funcionária, então não se intrometa na minha vida.
- Desculpa, senhor - ela disse, não gostou nem um pouquinho daquilo mas tinha que se colocar em seu lugar. - O almoço está servido, por favor não demore.
- Sim, senhora - ele disse quando ela já tinha se virado, ela respirou fundo e saiu dali.
A convivência com Zayn era complicada, os dois eram muito diferentes. Mas ela sobreviveu à primeira semana. Era final de semana e ela havia preparado o jantar, a campainha tocou e ela foi atender, eram os primos de Zayn.
- (S/n) - Zayn descia as escadas.
- Quem é essa, Zayn?
- Ela trabalha aqui agora.
- Sua babá? - eles riram.
- Parem de graça e respeitem a (s/n) - ele disse sério e ela gostou disso.
- Você vai sair? - ela perguntou para Zayn, ignorando os outros dois.
- Sim, eu esqueci de te avisar, foi mal.
- O jantar está pronto, então por favor, da próxima vez avise.
- Desculpa.
- Vou deixar na geladeira, se estiver com fome quando voltar.
- Não sei que horas que eu volto - ele sorri de um jeito malicioso. - Boa noite, (s/n).
Na manhã seguinte, Zayn ainda não tinha chegado e ela já cogitava ligar para a mãe dele ou para polícia. Quando viu a porta da frente abrir, respirou aliviada e foi até lá, encontrando Zayn jogado no sofá.
- Zayn, tudo bem?
- Tudo maravilhosamente bem.
- Sabe que horas são? - perguntou irritada agora que já tinha percebido que ele estava bem.
- Não faço ideia.
- Sério isso? Você não dorme em casa e acha que tá tudo bem?
- E qual é o problema? - ele olha pra ela, agora quem estava indignado era ele.
- O problema é que… - ela não sabia o que dizer.
- Você ficou preocupada é? - Um sorriso apareceu em seus lábios. - Relaxa, eu tive uma noite maravilhosa que terminou na cama de uma ruiva muito gata.
- Eu não preciso saber disso - ela fechou seus olhos com força.
- Não seja tão careta, eu não fiz nada de errado.
- Passar a noite em uma boate, bebendo e fazendo sei lá mais o que e terminando na cama de uma mulher que você nem conhece, isso parece errado para mim.
- Isso porque você é uma careta.
- A careta aqui estava preocupada - ela disse aquilo sem perceber.
- Então você admite que estava preocupada? - ela ficou vermelha. - Você não é minha mãe, (s/n), não tenta me controlar.
Ele passa por ela e vai em direção às escadas.
- Não está com fome?
- Eu como o jantar - ele gritou do topo das escadas.
- Jantar? São 9 da manhã - ela grita indignada.
- Tanto faz - ele grita de volta e ela revira os olhos.
- Por isso que sua mãe me contratou - ela fala para si mesma.
Ela preparou um café da manhã reforçado para ele, afinal cuidar da alimentação dele é seu trabalho.
Cada dia, era um embate diferente com o jeito de Zayn, eram de mundos muito diferentes e às vezes (s/n) se perguntava o que estava fazendo ali.
Zayn havia saído de novo, dessa vez em plena quarta-feira. Mas ele não dormiu fora, chegou em casa de madrugada. 
- Ainda acordada? - ele disse ao ver ela se aproximar.
- Acordei com o barulho - ela respondeu. - Tá tudo bem? - ela perguntou ao ver que ele não conseguia abrir a garrafa de água.
- Odeio essa garrafa - ela tirou das mãos dele e abriu com facilidade, colocou a água no copo e entregou pra ele.
- Você está bêbado - ele riu.
- Vai me dar sermão por causa disso?
- Sair no meio da semana e chegar em casa bêbado? Você merece um sermão por isso. Bebe a água.
- Tá bom, mamãe - ela revirou os olhos.
(S/n) ajudou Zayn a subir para seu quarto e o deitou na cama.
- Não gosto de dormir de roupa - ele disse tentando tirar a própria camiseta e ficando preso.
- Não acredito nisso - ela respirou fundo e o ajudou com a camiseta.
Enquanto dobrava a camiseta dele, Zayn tirou as próprias calças e (s/n) soltou um gritinho ao se virar e ver ele só de cueca.
- Qual o problema? Não gosta do que vê?
- É melhor você ir dormir logo, boa noite Zayn.
Ela saiu do quarto apressada e ouviu a risada de Zayn. 
Antes de ir pra faculdade, ela deixou o café da manhã dele pronto junto com um remédio pra ressaca que ele provavelmente ia ter.
Ao chegar em casa, encontrou ele na sala com seu violão em mãos cantando uma música bem pervertida. Quando ele a viu, sorriu maliciosamente e continuou cantando a música, provocando-a.
- Sua voz é bem bonita - ela elogiou quando ele terminou.
- Obrigado. O que achou da música? Você é a primeira a ouvir.
- Você não quer minha opinião sincera. 
- Pode mandar.
- Sua voz é bonita, a melodia é boa mas a letra é horrível.
- Acho que a ruiva não vai pensar o mesmo - ele diz maliciosamente.
- A ruiva?
- Da outra noite, nossa noite foi tão boa, se é que me entende, que virou música.
- Eu não precisava ouvir isso.
- Não seja inocente, você sabe do que eu to falando.
- Zayn, isso pode ser algo normal pra você, mas pra mim não.
- Sexo não é normal pra você? - ela se arrepiou ao ouvir aquela palavra.
- Falar abertamente sobre isso não é não.
- De onde você veio, afinal? Do século passado?
- Eu só não sou uma pervertida como você.
- Pervertida? Quem usa essa palavra?
- Quer saber, isso é demais pra mim.
- Sexo não pode ser tabu, é algo normal, que todo mundo faz. 
- Para de falar essa palavra.
- Qual o problema? Não vai me dizer que você é uma dessas falsas moralistas.
- Não, Zayn. Eu acho que nós dois temos pensamentos muito diferentes.
- To curioso para saber os seus.
- Você quer mesmo saber?
- Quero - ele aponta para o sofá para ela se sentar.
- Ta bom - ela senta e respira fundo. - Eu venho do interior, tenho mãe e pai, eu cresci em uma família cheia de amor apesar de toda dificuldade, eu aprendi que casamento é uma coisa sagrada, eu aprendi que bebidas, cigarro, drogas e sexo são o caminho mais rápido para uma vida miserável e eu aprendi a não deixar ninguém entrar na minha cabeça e me levar para o caminho errado. 
- Então você acha que eu to no caminho errado?
- Acho.
- Eu respeito sua opinião.
- Ótimo.
- O que teremos para o almoço? - Ela ficou confusa com a rápida mudança de assunto.
- Eu vou preparar - disse meio desnorteada e foi pra cozinha fazer o almoço.
Zayn parecia mais distante desde a última conversa deles, não que fossem próximos mas parecia que algo tinha mudado. O pior é que (s/n) sentia falta dele, das conversas e do jeito dele. Então ela resolveu perguntar, no café da manhã, ela timidamente se aproximou e perguntou.
- Zayn? - ele a olhou. - Você ficou chateado pelo que eu disse no outro dia?
- Não, é sua opinião.
- Ok - não era bem aquilo que ela esperava. 
- Eu só estou tentando te respeitar.
- Não significa que tenha que se distanciar. 
- Tudo bem, se você quiser podemos ser amigos?
- Por mim, tudo bem. 
- Posso te perguntar uma coisa? - ela assentiu. - Onde você aprendeu a cozinhar assim?
- Não sei, minha mãe diz que é um talento natural.
- Definitivamente é um talento.
- Obrigada - ela sorri.
- Você deveria estar trabalhando em um grande restaurante não aqui comigo.
- Um dia eu vou, mas é um longo caminho.
- Por isso você se mudou pra cá?
- Sim, pra fazer faculdade.
- Você faz faculdade do que mesmo?
- Gastronomia.
- Óbvio - ele ri. 
- Meus pais não podiam pagar então eu trabalho pra pagar - ela dá de ombros.
- Acho que eu tenho sorte - ela olha pra ele sem entender. - Tenho uma futura chef como minha cozinheira, é melhor eu aproveitar enquanto posso comer sua comida, no futuro vou ter que esperar muito por uma mesa em seu restaurante renomado - ela ri.
- Você será cliente vip - eles sorriem um para o outro.
Aquela conversa tinha feito bem para (s/n), ela havia visto um outro lado de Zayn e gostado muito. Mas seu lado malicioso nunca ia embora, e se ela fosse honesta, ela gostava disso. Eles continuaram se aproximando nos próximos dias, mas (s/n) estava se sentindo confusa, seus sentimentos por Zayn eram confusos. 
Era noite e ela ia até a cozinha pegar um copo de água, se assustou ao ouvir a voz de Zayn.
- Não consegue dormir?
- Zayn, você me assustou.
- Desculpa - ele mordeu a maçã em sua mão. 
- Eu só vim pegar um copo de água e você? Com fome? Eu posso preparar algo pra você.
- Não precisa - ele mostrou a maçã. 
Ele estava sem camisa outra vez, ela já devia estar acostumada mas ainda sentia algo diferente ao vê-lo assim. 
- O que? - ele olhou para seu peito e ela se deu conta de que estava o encarando.
- Por que tantas tatuagens?
- Você não gosta? 
- Não - ela se vira e abre a geladeira.
- Eu acho que você gosta sim - ele disse de um jeito provocativo.
- Eu nunca gostei de tatuagens - ela coloca a água no copo.
- Claro que a santinha não iria gostar de tatuagens.
- Não precisa me chamar assim.
- Quer saber, eu acho que você gosta sim, pelo menos em mim você gosta - (s/n) sentiu Zayn próximo de si, sua voz era sexy.
- Zayn - a voz dela não passava de um sussurro.
- Eu acho que você se sente atraída por mim, o seu corpo dá sinais, como a sua pele arrepiada agora, sua respiração acelerada e o jeito que você me encarava, não era só pelas tatuagens e você já fez isso antes - ela se vira encontrando ele próximo demais. - Me diz, o que você faria se eu te beijasse?
Ela encarou os lábios dele e não respondeu, ele estava certo, ela se sentia atraída por ele, não achava que conseguiria dizer isso em voz alta, então o puxou e ela mesma iniciou o beijo, Zayn demorou um segundo para perceber o que estava acontecendo mas logo suas mãos estavam a puxando para si.
Ele a levantou e a colocou sentada na bancada, as pernas dela ao redor de seu corpo, as mãos passando timidamente por seu cabelo e ombro. As dele não tinha pudor algum, passavam por suas costas e cintura. O beijo esquentava cada vez mais e Zayn estava enlouquecendo apenas em sentir os peitos dela roçarem em seu peitoral. Ela usava uma blusa de alças, devia ser a primeira vez que ele via aquela parte do corpo dela, sentiu uma vontade enorme de passar as mãos pelos seus peitos e aperta-los, mas não queria assustá-la. Seus beijos passaram ao pescoço dela que suspirava e desceram devagar por seu busto, as mãos dele encontraram as alças da blusa e lentamente foram abaixando-as. Ela estava sem sutiã e quando ele enfim abaixou as alças e a blusa dela abaixou, ele estava de frente aos seios dela, começou a beijá-los e deixar mordidas leves. Mas sua mente o lembrou que aquela era (s/n), a garota inocente que ocupava seus pensamentos nas últimas semanas. Ele estava louco por ela e queria aquilo mais que tudo mas não podia fazer aquilo com ela, não daquele jeito, ela merecia mais.
Zayn se obrigou a se afastar e se surpreendeu com o protesto dela.
- Eu sei linda, mas eu não posso fazer isso assim.
- Você pode, eu deixo - ele sorriu e acariciou o rosto dela.
- Você é pura demais pra eu fazer isso assim.
- É porque você não se sente atraído por mim, não é? - ela abaixa a cabeça. - Eu não sou boa o suficiente pra você - aquilo o deixa revoltado, como ela pode pensar que não é boa o suficiente quando tem tirado seu juízo, ela era o motivo de suas noites em claro e sonhos impróprios.
- Olha pra mim, (s/n) - ela levanta o rosto. - Olha o estado que você me deixa só com um beijo - ele aponta para seu membro e ela fica vermelha ao perceber o que ele ta falando, ele acha isso adoravel. - Eu sei que você é inocente mas não ao ponto de não entender isso, eu te quero há muito tempo, eu sonho com você e juro, se você não fosse tão pura eu já tinha te jogado na minha cama há muito tempo, mas eu não quero só sexo, com você é mais que isso. Você merece mais e eu prometo que quando for a hora certa eu farei ser perfeito, mas a gente vai ter que ser paciente, ir com calma - ele prende o cabelo dela atrás da orelha, ela sorri timidamente. - É melhor a gente ir dormir agora - ele olha os seios dela e suspira antes de subir as alças da blusa de volta ao seu lugar - Boa noite, linda.
- Boa noite, Zayn - ela diz depois que ele deixa um beijo em sua testa.
Eles vão cada um para seu quarto. Mas nenhum dos dois consegue dormir, Zayn precisa de um banho frio e (s/n) apenas encara o teto do quarto, sorrindo boba e pensando no moreno e em todas aquelas sensações e sentimentos novos que ele a causou.
No dia seguinte, ela está extremamente tímida, mas Zayn veio receber ela ao chegar em casa da faculdade e deixou um beijo em seus lábios, ele foi um fofo perguntando de seu dia e a fez se sentir confortável. Ele fez questão que ela se sentasse para almoçar com ele.
Nos dias que se seguiram, eles estavam cada vez mais próximos, Zayn a tratava muito bem e eles sempre trocavam beijos sem passar muito disso. Era noite e ela foi até Zayn na sala, ele estava com seu violão como de costume.
- Vim te dar um beijo de boa noite - ela disse sorrindo.
Zayn levantou o olhar para a garota, ela usava blusa de alças novamente e um short, parecia inocente e aquilo deixava Zayn com mais vontade ainda. Ele pegou sua mão e a puxou para se sentar em seu colo, uma perna de cada lado do seu corpo. 
- Vem cá - ele a puxou pela nuca e beijou, um beijo intenso.
- Zayn, você disse que íamos com calma - ela disse quando os beijos quentes de Zayn desceram para seu pescoço a caminho de seus seios.
- Com calma - ele ergue os olhos pra ela. - Não vou passar dos limites, confia em mim?
- Confio - ela suspirou e Zayn sorriu, voltando os lábios ao seu peito. 
Ele apertou os seios dela e ela soltou um gemido tímido, o que fez Zayn sorrir. Ele tirou a blusa dela e encarou os seios, ela se remexeu em seu colo e foi a vez dele gemer.
- Fica quietinha, linda, por favor - ela assentiu tímida.
- Desculpa.
- Tudo bem - ele acaricia a face dela que está vermelha. - Você não tem que ter vergonha.
Ele beija os lábios dela e depois seus lábios passam aos seios dela, onde ele chupa, morde, beija, acaricia. Ela solta gemidos tímidos. Zayn poderia ficar horas ali mas acha melhor parar. Ela geme em protesto quando ele se afasta.
- Calma, minha linda, na hora certa - ele deixa um beijo nos lábios dela. 
- Zayn, quando vai ser a hora certa?
- A gente vai saber.
Ela deita a cabeça em seu ombro, inalando o cheiro dele. 
- Queria te levar pra dormir comigo, nos meus braços, mas não sei se conseguiria me segurar.
- Eu ia gostar de dormir nos seus braços.
- É melhor você ir pra cama - ele diz.
Ela levanta contra vontade, pega sua blusa e a veste novamente. Deixou um leve beijo na bochecha de Zayn e disse boa noite, depois ela saiu, deixando ele sozinho na sala. Zayn logo foi para seu quarto dar um jeito em seu estado.
Três noites depois, (S/n) estava em seu quarto, ela se olhou no espelho e sorriu para si mesma. Pegou sua bolsa e foi até a sala, Zayn descia as escadas e quando a avistou sorriu, encarando-a da cabeça aos pés. 
- Você está linda - ele disse. 
Ela usava um vestido florido com comprimento abaixo dos joelhos, o vestido tampava todo o decote dela, era um vestido que não revelava nada do corpo dela, em outra mulher poderia parecer sem graça mas nela parecia apropriado. Zayn sorriu ainda mais ao pensar que ele provavelmente era o único homem que já havia visto seus seios.
- Vou encontrar algumas amigas da faculdade - ela sorria.
- Eu posso te levar - ele ofereceu.
- Não precisa, eu já chamei um carro.
- Da próxima me deixa te levar - ele beija os lábios dela. - Divirta-se.
Ela nem viu o tempo passar, estava se divertindo com suas amigas, rindo e ouvindo as histórias delas, jogando alguns jogos, cantando no karaokê, aproveitando a noite. Enquanto isso, Zayn andava de um lado para o outro na sala de sua casa, (s/n) ainda não tinha chegado e já era tarde, ela não era assim, não era normal ela ficar fora até a madrugada. Ele já havia ligado inúmeras vezes e mandado dezenas de mensagens, estava apavorado, quando finalmente seu celular tocou. Era ela.
- (S/n)? Você tá bem? - ele disse, desesperado.
- Eu estou bem, desculpa, não vi o celular a noite toda.
- Você me deixou muito preocupado, (s/n).
- Desculpa.
- Só me manda sua localização, eu vou te buscar. 
- Não precisa.
- Eu faço questão.
- Ok.
(S/n) entrou no carro de Zayn, mal fechou a porta e ele a puxou para si, a abraçando.
- Eu fiquei muito preocupado - ele fala apertando ela em seus braços.
- Agora você sabe como eu me sinto quando você sai.
- É, agora eu sei - ele ri fraco. - Vamos para casa.
Zayn dirigiu até a casa dele, entraram juntos e ela logo tirou o sapato.
- (S/n) - ele a chamou e ela se virou, ele apenas a encarou.
- O que foi?
- Eu só quero te olhar, você é tão linda.
Ele se aproxima dela, suas mãos acariciam os braços dela, subindo até seu pescoço, tira seus cabelos do caminho e chegam ao rosto, ele acaricia e então a puxa para um beijo.
- Dorme comigo essa noite? - Ele sussurra após o beijo.
- Você disse que não iria conseguir se controlar se dormíssemos juntos.
- Isso foi antes - eles se encaram. - Eu acho que a hora certa chegou, se você quiser.
- Eu quero.
Ele a conduziu até seu quarto. A respiração dela estava acelerada e ele percebeu o nervosismo dela.
- Linda, se você não quiser, não precisamos fazer isso hoje, podemos esperar.
- Eu quero - ela segura seu rosto entre suas mãos. - Eu quero. Só estou nervosa.
- É normal, é sua primeira vez, mas eu prometo que vou dar meu melhor pra você, vou fazer de tudo para que seja o mais perfeito possível.
- Eu sei que vai - ela sorri para ele. 
Zayn a vira e abaixa o zíper do vestido que cai no chão. Ele caminha até estar de frente a ela e encara seu corpo. Ela já havia ficado sem blusa na frente dele mas aquilo ainda a deixava constrangida e envergonhada, ela não podia evitar, gostaria de ser mais confiante, mas não conseguia não se envergonhar.
- Você é tão linda e eu te acho ainda mais bonita quando fica vermelha assim - ele passa a mão em suas bochechas.
Zayn a pega em seu colo como uma noiva e a deita em sua cama. Ele é cuidadoso e a trata como se fosse a joia mais preciosa, sua princesa. Ela sente coisas que nunca havia sentido antes, Zayn provoca sensações desconhecidas em seu corpo. Juntos eles têm uma noite repleta de amor.
Na manhã seguinte, Zayn acorda com (s/n) deitada em seus braços, dormindo tranquilamente. Ele sorri e acaricia os cabelos dela, com cuidado se levanta.
(S/n) acorda com a voz de Zayn chamando seu nome, ela sorri e ao abrir os olhos se depara com o lindo moreno carregando uma bandeja.
- Bom dia, minha linda - ele diz e ela sorri.
- Bom dia. Uau! Café da manhã na cama?
- Não é como o seu, mas eu dei o meu melhor.
- O gesto significa muito mais - ela pega uma uva da bandeja e come.
- Como você está? - sua voz parece preocupada.
- Eu estou bem, não precisa se preocupar.
- Só quero ter certeza de que está tudo bem.
Ela acaricia o rosto dele. (S/n) se distrai com a comida e volta sua atenção a Zayn ao ouvir sua risada.
- Minha mãe vai me matar quando souber - ela se junta a ele na risada. 
- A minha mãe costumava me dizer, “(S/n) tome cuidado, as boas garotas sempre se apaixonam pelos caras ruins”.
- Parece que ela estava certa - eles riem mais ainda.
Quando as risadas cessaram, eles apenas se encararam com olhares apaixonados.
- Eu não sei o que você fez, mas com você tudo é diferente, é especial. Diferente de qualquer outra mulher com quem já sai, você eu quero proteger, eu quero estar perto, você faz eu sentir coisas que não sei explicar, meu coração se acelera perto de você e eu sinto a necessidade de te ter mais perto. Você mudou meu mundo. Eu te amo.
- Zayn - ela sorri com lágrimas nos olhos. - Eu também te amo, meu amor. 
- Nós não vamos deixar ninguém dizer que não somos certos um para o outro só porque somos diferentes, nós nos amamos e isso é o suficiente, eu prometo.
Eles selam a promessa com um beijo. Não importa o que acontecesse, eles tinham a certeza que estariam juntos para enfrentar. E todas as diferenças tornavam eles únicos e aquele relacionamento ainda mais especial. 
22 notes · View notes
bonesandchalamet · 8 months
Text
Italy - h.styles
pairing: husband!harry styles x wife!reader
warnings: fluff
a/n: he looks so husband material in the latest Italy pictures!!! enjoy this lil blurb xx
Tumblr media
you’d lay in the sun until you could become leather, or until the alcohol washed away and you were suddenly aware of the rays piercing down into your skin.
you’re laying at the head of the boat, towel underneath you collecting sweat and salty water droplets while you drift into sleep. you only wake the sound of a bottle squeezing out sunscreen and your husbands warm hands rubbing the cream into your skin.
“you’re going to get sun poisoning if you don’t wear this.” he mutters while furiously working his hands across your stomach to evenly distribute the SPF 30 to protect your skin.
“I’m fine, h.” you protest, but have no strength to push him off, just allowing him to help you.
“when you’re so red you can’t move tomorrow I’ll be the one to laugh.” he smiles, a chuckle escaping his lips before he places a gentle kiss to your Rudolph colored nose.
the rays of Italy were brutal. they were not kind like the sun in England that could give you just the perfect glow for the week or two. Italy’s sun loves to eat up pasty white skin and make anyone redder than a lobster.
he throws his leg over your waist and effortlessly pulls you closer to him, “you should drink some water or else you’ll get sick.” he reminds you with another kiss, this time into the crook of your neck. he burrows his nose into you, lips wrapped around your skin his teeth sink into the redness marking his territory.
“harry, stop.” you can’t fight the giggles or the gasps of air he has you in. you’re both so completely unaware of the passengers on board. he’s pulled you into a different universe with his tongue, lips, and teeth.
“alright, alright,” he pulls himself away finally. he swings his leg off of you sitting up right, “so water?”
“yes please.”
1K notes · View notes
finelinefae · 1 month
Text
the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.
word count: 8.5k
contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma
This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!
. . .
Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 
“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 
He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 
“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 
Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.
“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 
“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 
“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 
Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 
Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.
“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.
“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.
George nodded, “Last time I heard.”
“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.
Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.
Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 
“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 
“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”
George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 
Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 
. . .
“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 
“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.
“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”
Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 
“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 
Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 
Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 
As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 
Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 
Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 
“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 
“M her brother,” He corrected. 
“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 
“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 
“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”
“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 
“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.
“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 
Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.
“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 
“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 
“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 
“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 
Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 
Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 
She paused, “Any friends?” 
“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”
“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 
“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 
“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 
“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 
Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”
Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”
“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 
“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 
“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 
“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 
Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.
Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”
“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.
“I can believe that,” She yelled back.
“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.
Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.
Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.
On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 
The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 
Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.
“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”
“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 
“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 
“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 
Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 
“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 
“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 
“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.
“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 
Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”
“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”
“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 
“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”
“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 
“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”
Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 
“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 
Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 
“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”
“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.
“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 
Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”
“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 
Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 
Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.
"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.
Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."
Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."
With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.
Keep away from Harry Styles. 
. . .
The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 
This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 
Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 
Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 
Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 
Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 
Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 
Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 
He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 
The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 
“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 
“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 
“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 
George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 
Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 
George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?” 
The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 
George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”
Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”
“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.
“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”
Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 
“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”
“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 
“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 
“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.
“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.
“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”
“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.
. . .
Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 
She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 
Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 
It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 
Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 
Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 
Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 
“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.
“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.
“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 
“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 
“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 
“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 
“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 
Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.
Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were. 
“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 
“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 
Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 
Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.
“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 
“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”
“A few?” Patsy giggled.
“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 
Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 
“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 
“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 
Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”
“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.
Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”
Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 
Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 
The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”
“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 
Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”
Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 
“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.
“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 
A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  
Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 
He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.
“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 
“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 
A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 
“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 
“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 
“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 
“Hi,” Y/N blushed.
“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 
“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 
“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”
“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 
“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 
Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 
“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”
“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.
“So you came?” He teased. 
“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 
“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 
“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.
“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 
"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.
Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 
Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 
“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.
He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 
Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 
She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 
“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.
“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 
“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”
“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.
“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 
“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”
Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”
“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.
Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”
“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.
“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.
Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 
Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 
The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 
Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.
"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 
As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.
"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.
"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.
"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 
"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.
"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.
"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.
"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.
"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.
"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.
"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.
"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.
Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.
“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 
As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 
A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 
"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.
Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.
"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."
Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.
"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.
"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.
Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 
Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.
Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 
“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 
“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 
“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 
Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.
Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 
In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 
They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 
“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.
“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 
“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 
“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 
Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 
“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 
Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 
Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”
They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 
“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.
Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 
Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 
She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.
Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.
A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.
I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! <;33
1K notes · View notes