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chokchokk · 10 months

Note

Can I request a San x Female Reader where It's her first time having sex and first time having an orgasmn. So San makes her squirt over and over before fuckin her. But at the end she notices blood and freaks out so he comforts her? Very smutty and fluffy please?

-AA

Im too embarrassed

dearest AA, “very smutty”, “very fluffy” and “too embarrassed” don’t co-exist in my universe, so i hope with this fic i could get some of your shame (?) away, babes <33 indulge in your desires and don’t hesitate to revisit me anytime !!! thank you for being my first requester xoxo

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ! | choi san x fem!reader

“Don't go around calling me baby right now, or I'll turn like the San in your dream.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Your boyfriend is a wet dream, but this only goes so far, when your real dream leaves you confused and most importantly, curious. San is more than happy to help.

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff (slice of life-ish), smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 10k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : 1st time, sex with communication, first orgasm, foreplay, explicit consent, fingering, squirting, protected (!) penetrative sex, bleeding, after-care; san is a great boyfriend, san has a big dick, that is actually important to the plot, established relationship, living together, a lot of sweet pet-names, teasing, domestic humour

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : LMAO i’ll be honest i got carried away with the build-up (pls know this abt me; i’m a WHORE for build-up (sorry not sorry)) but if you want to jump to the spicy part immediately, go find the second border, the smut will start there!! enjoy in any way you want !!! <33 feedback would be greatly appreciated xoxo

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“Good night, Y/N. Dream of me~”, your boyfriend lulls, as you’re cuddled into his breast, San’s sturdy arm cushioning your body from below, stroking your head that’s under his. He just finished talking about his lucid dreaming recently, fascinated that he can remember more details now, but you interrupted his talking, when he iterated a fight to you where he got his nose bleeding.

“I don’t have to dream of you when you’re the dream already, Sannie,” you whisper, and with a giggle, he kisses your forehead. San has warned you about calling him ‘dream boyfriend’ multiple times, since he’s aways got, quote, “things to improve on”, but since it’s not dream husband yet, you’re left with no other description.

“Ohh, sugarplum,” he coos and and pushes your face deeper into the crook of his neck, “don’t say that.”

San is a special case in every which way; in the way he’s this buff guy with guns for arms that he uses to keep you warm when you sleep — in the way San is has the energy of a bull that he stashes away to sing his girlfriend a lullaby — in the way that the Choi San who has dated so many women in his past and hooked up with them (with no ill feelings in the present, of course) has settled down with you, Y/N, a woman with no prior experience other than the media she has consumed.

So you keep telling it yourself in secret. San is, and will forever be, a dream boyfriend. He’s as good to you as you are seemingly to him, but course the topic of sex, at least the lack thereof, crosses you two’s conversations from time to time.

It’s not like you had tried to save yourself for something, really not. It just… didn’t sound appealing to you, ever. You’ve shared to San that you don’t even masturbate that often, since you’ve never been able to get a satisfactory end— an orgasm— out of it. And while other men would laugh about such a thing, San has shown you nothing but understanding and support.

When you feel sorry for not being able to meet his sexual needs, he tells you he’s happy enough that you feel comfortable to share your discomforts with you. There is not one cell of his body that would mutate and judge you, San is fully devoted to your well-being.

What you forget sometimes is that while San is your first boyfriend, it’s your first time being a girlfriend, too. So being sorry for San is one thing, but wanting to love San more is another. At least you realised that this morning, when you woke up from your first ever wet dream.

You have been able to just ‘shake it off’ during the day and not think about it, but after San, being your soulmate he is, came up with the topic of “lucid dreaming”, and you could barely listen to his wild stories because of how distracted you were.

Maybe that’s why San thought you were tired and cuddled you to slumber so soon. Him cuddling you and getting your head under his chin is you two’s usual sleeping position, but well, huh… You’re not tired, not at all.

“I mean it,” you choke out, San humming, touched by your compliment, but of course he doesn’t know that by saying he’s a dream,you’re also referencing to how his hands were touching your private areas all around, his mouth in places that it’s never been in before in real life. ‘Tastes so good…’

“I love you so much, Y/N,” San exhales delightfully, fed by your fuzzy feelings, still caressing your head with gentle fingers, “but you know that I want you to hold me accountable.”

“Saaannie,” you murmur, your breath turning into a hot patch on his shirt, “just take it as it is.”

San notices your slightly agitated tone and chuckles, kissing your forehead again. “Y/N, my sugar-pie, what’s bothering you?” There has been no doubt in you that San wouldn’t catch on that you’re being weird, and though you’re really glad he did, it, for some reason, doesn’t make the topic any more easier.

“It’s—“, you begin to stammer, and with your struggle comes San’s immediate help. He shuffles back a little bit so he can take an analytical look at you, all blushed and worked up over a dream you can’t even remember the half of. San’s eyes are droopy, and while right now, it’s because he’s tired, in your dream, it was because he wanted to ‘eat you up…’

“It’s too embarrassing to explain.”

San gets the arm away from below and leans his head against his hand, propping himself up. “Embarrassing?”, he asks and pouts with a slight smile, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. “Is it an embarrassing matter or just you who’s soooo easy to embarrass, huh?”, San grins and taps your nose one time with his finger to loosen you up, looking you straight in the eyes to give you all his attention. He’s showing to you that you, dearest, could never be embarrassing to him. Everything you do, he’ll take serious and anything you say, San will listen to it, as he’s shown you over and over again, reaffirming it to you every day and night.

‘I’m going to show you my love, all of it.’

San sees you licking your lips and putting your words together in your overwhelmed brain. You’re not nervous of how San will react, that is for sure, it’s just that… Where do you start? ‘Hey, boyfriend, I think I want to have sex with you?’ That does get the message across, but the words have to leave your mouth first.

It’s hard. You don’t think you’ve ever said the word, ‘sex’ in the context of… actually having it, let alone desiring it. San watches you spiral— starting to inhale, but then losing your words— and strokes over your head, humming “Just start with the basic outline—“

“I had sex with you in my dream.”

San stops stroking your head for a hot second and you two are just looking into each other’s eyes. San notices now how red you have become, how flushed you look, what a cute girlfriend you are for being embarrassed about this and shit, how lucky he is that you’re his and not anybody else’s girlfriend who you are so adorable playing with your hair right after you just dropped the “s-bomb” on him.

You don’t know what’s worse: Him, waiting for you to continue your talking before he can react to your … attention-grabbing introductory sentence, or you, not having anything to follow up. He probably expects you to tell your dream, but— but not in front of San himself, no! You’re quiet and continue to be, until he takes it upon himself to break the silence.

“… Did you wake up?”

Huh?

“What? Of course I woke up, I’m here now.”

“No, sweetie,” San wheezes softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, while you finally let your eyes stray away (his gaze is unbearable), “I’m asking whether you got to see the end of it.”

“The—“, you parrot him, and while you do San smiles sheepishly, apparently finding you so endearing while you are in mutilation, a foreign warmth growing in your stomach, “— end?”

“I just don’t want to scare you, Y/N,” San hums and twirls your hair around on his finger. “This is me asking where your head is in this situation.”

You blink and San pushes his lips out to indicate that he’s waiting for an answer, or at least something to give him to know if you’re in need of consolation or advice. “Uhm,” you inhale, “I… saw almost everything, I guess.”

His reaction could mean a lot. The dimple in his cheek getting deeper, his nose crunch, him sucking in his lip — it could mean a lot, but also so little.

“Almost everything,” San re-confirms, you know that this description is still very vague.

Gathering your shards of confidence, you murmur, “I mean… We saw each other naked often, so I think that’s why my brain could— do that, but when it came to that, it… You know. It surprised me.”

“That,” San repeats and by now, he definitely understands the superficial parts of your dream, but you have yet to drop any details. Was the dream a good one? Or well, was he good?

As expected, he wouldn’t dare to ask you that right now, looking at how you’re stammering awkwardly. You can still read it in his eyes though; his curiosity is asking you whether your dream has changed your attitude about sex, let it be for the better or worse.

You know San is going to show understanding regardless, right?

Yes, absolutely right.

“Y/N, sugar, we can talk about this tomorrow or any other day you like. I’ll keep it in mind, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe you should say something before San thinks the dream has made you negatively speechless. Well, it did make you speechless the whole day, but now, you’re almost bursting with the things you want to say, like they’re brewing inside you but not getting flavourful yet.

“No, Sannie,” you whine and put your hand on your eyes to hide yourself from his way-too sincere eyes. This isn’t how people do it in the movies or in the books. They usually just… get it on, no? Like they eat each other up, like it’s a necessity for survival, like eating to meet hunger, like quenching your thirst. You don’t know if this is a feeling like that. Whether the uncomfortable warmth inside you is truly the embarrassment but rather the reaction of your memories. ‘Let yourself be all over me.’

“Yes, sweetie,” San croons, removing his hand from your head to leave you by yourself even more, your palms resting on your eye sockets.

You love him. You’ve never doubted this, and you’re not doubting it now. From the moment he confessed his love to you, you having to get used to the idea of being in a relationship to now, almost a year later. You’ve mentioned it to him haphazardly already, but you’ve done everything except have sex. It had been San’s idea to ease you into the twosome-ness of it all; ‘let’s be each other’s person’. He said that in your dream, too, and finally you understood it.

You remember your long-lived confusion before today too well. San was your person as you were his, him with his own set of needs and expectations, you with your own — but weren’t they contradictory? San needed the sex, didn’t he? Like… sexual needs?

No, “sex isn’t a need”, San explained to you back then, “it’s a way!“

You tried to bring up the whole concept of orgasming being healthy to him, but he continued with “to me,” and you are reciting these words in your head as you try to think of something good to say, “sex is just one of many ways to love you, Y/N.”

So, truth be told, despite having a virgin girlfriend, he orgasms a healthy amount still. Sometimes San does it while you’re sleeping next to him, sometimes he feels like he can’t resist to look at your peaceful, tranquil, breathtaking face and does it in the bathroom, but essentially, he is not having sex, just getting rid of his ‘bodily mishaps’.

While you thought of sex as this strange way to get rid of stress, San thought of it as something way more, but he wouldn’t try to convince you of it, if you didn’t give him your “okay” to talk about it at all.

But here you are. Okay. You’re finally ready. Or maybe you’re not, but you’re ready to try, try with San, try San. He’ll be your person, get to know where you like to be touched, get to know where your sweet spots are and you will hopefully do just the same— touch, no, lick, no, touch, lick and suck everywhere he wants, pour your yourself over him. You’ve wanted to find out how to do that since you’ve dreamt of it since last night, processing the brain-sensation it has left you with for the whole day.

“Do you think you want to tell me about your dream first?“

“Can you kiss me?”

“H- huh?”

You get your hands from your eyes and your vision is too blurry to precisely get the picture of his rather shaken expression in. San thinks you’re bold. Mostly because that’s what you are right now. Bold. Still embarrassed, but encouraged and desperate. “Can you kiss me?”, you ask again before you fall into another pile of self-embarrassment.

“I can, but I don’t know how it’s going to help—“

You pull his face closer to yours with both of your hands and San is the one who slightly turns red now. “Y/N,” he pants, and you have to suppress a cheeky smile, when you push his cheeks together to form a duck-face.

Until you notice he’s not being sulky with the way he’s trying to push you away.

It takes you a while, how would you know that it was so easy to get men erected? Okay, you’ve seen San get a boner in the most uncomfortable situations several occasions, but usually they weren’t because of a direct cause.

If he had worn a baggier set of pants, you probably wouldn’t have seen it, but it’s only his shorts today, and the whole outline of it is almost jumping into your face, you couldn’t have not seen it. Not remarking it also wouldn’t have helped the situation. Your situation. ‘I won’t stop, I won’t stop fucking you all night.’

“Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me, Sannie?”, you murmur and flutter with your eye-lids, once your realise you’ve been staring for too long down there.

In contrast the voyeuristic scene, it strangely does not become one of those erotic moments; with San’s whiny chuckle, it actually becomes kind of … bonny. Him getting a hard-on, when his girlfriend is quite figuratively trying to open up with him, it becomes a small detail to poke fun at, one to laugh about it with an amiable awareness that you’re not mocking each other.

“I’m sorry— ignore this— I can ignore this,” San tells you and flops on his back, grabbing all of the blanket to roll around it and leaving you cold with less. “Hey!”, you pout and grab the seam of the blanket to get under it, but San gets ahold of your wrists to prevent you from cuddling to his side.

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing else occupying San’s mind and body right now, with you knowing it, or the way you can’t keep your hands off of him and he’s desperately trying to avoid your touch, it seems like a short game of cat-and-mouse.

“I don’t care that you’re hard, Sannie!”, you whine and search for his vicinity, but he wiggles away, forcing you to be a bit more assertive and wring with him.

“But I do!”, he exclaims, not really understanding the weight that your words hold. You just told him that you’re not appalled by his erection, that should be a big sign that you’re, uh, up for conversation, no? Why are you being like this? Maybe to keep up the tension? Because it’s fun? Fun playing around with San— to watch him try to use as little strength as possible, knowing that once he gets just the tiniest bit of muscle in, you’ll be overthrown?

“Sannie,” you make a sullen face, breathing out, at your third try to get your arms around him with San’s hands on your wrist, but when you get caught in the blanket with your leg that he keeps pulling, it’s over the second he yanks you to the side.

Yanking you to the side meaning pulling you by your whole body— you landing on his belly, arms awkwardly angled towards your torso, leaning into his face.

“You men”, you theatrically moan to tease him even more and San is fighting with all his inner voices right now. Most of them are just empty screams of ‘what is happening?!’, but also muscle memory persuading him to wrap his arms around your perfect waist and pin you down— he’s trying, that’s what he’s yearning to tell you by pushing his eyebrows down. “I’m sorry.”

“Ohh, Sannie,” you sigh, letting your head drop on top of his breast, crossing your fingers into San’s, while he manages his breathing.

“This is why I’m no dream man, Y/N,” San pouts, feeling guilty having used his power over you.

“It’s natural, isn’t it?”, you answer — letting your hands fall to each side of San’s body, and you feel like one of those people that usually tell you the same thing when the fact that you’re a virgin slips off your tongue. ‘It’s natural, isn’t it? That couples have sex?’ It should be and it’s going to be, thank you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I was really not prepared for that,” San wheezes and he raises one of your intertwined hands to touch your fingers with his lips.

“What? The cuddling or the dream?”

“The cuddling, in the context of the dream,” he answers honestly and inhales your sleepy scent from your fingertips, feeling how comfortable you lay on top of him.

“It was a good dream,” you conclude.

This was what San was trying to find out. Good or bad. And to his luck, it was good. Very good. ‘Such a good girl… So good to me.’

“Y/N?”

You accidentally zoned out, re-imagining your reverie; San all over you, sweat dripping down from his skin onto yours, his pelvis pistoning into your raised legs. How had your brain come up with that? It felt so… real. “Sorry, I got lost there for a second. What did you say?”

“How was he, that San in your dream?”

“The San in my dream, he,” you chuckle, feeling your breathing accumulate to your boyfriend’s, “… did everything, but he wasn’t careful, no.”

“What?!”, San exclaims, and it seems like he’s offended by his alter-ego to dare such a thing— he lets go off your hands in the shock and grabs you by your shoulders. “Not careful?!”

“Hmm,” you try and calm him down, letting your hands glide onto his pillowy breasts, massaging your fingers into his flesh by circling them, “he was inside… But a bit… Too fast for my liking? I mean, I don’t know my liking… I was enjoying it in my dream, but— uhm, I don’t think I could handle so much right now?”

San hums, as in to show that he heard what you said, but it took him a second of you burying your hands inside his armpits to inhale, “wait, right now?”, and remove his hands from your shoulders.

“Sannie,” you murmur with closed eyes, the buzzing feeling inside your lower abdomen swaying you to something like slumber, but if you’re not mistaken— and you’re sure that you can’t be mistaken about your own thoughts— it’s not a slumber that can be cured by sleep, but rather something else, “I couldn’t think of anything else today.”

He’s silent. He’s still breathing— thank goodness— but even though you can hear his breath leave his mouth, it doesn’t seem like San is going to say something. Pushing your upper body up, you tilt your head down.

He’s silent, sweaty and breathing, breathing heavily, staring upwards at you with sunken eyes, unable to let any of his thoughts leave the safe space of his mouth, because if San did, he’d give himself trouble for it. Seeing you fix your gaze— eyelids droopy from having been smushed into his breast— seems to only be adding fuel to his loss of good sense, and San is praying in his head that you won’t lick your lips once more, because oh god, if you did, you are going to be in so much more trouble than he is.

“Baby?”, you ask, and you swear you’re not trying to provoke him, since you only call him baby in the most special occasions, but right now, it just slipped out of you because San is being a bit strange.

Boyfriends don’t act like this, do they? Your boyfriend doesn’t; that, you can be sure about.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself, hopefully to get rid of some of his— well, what was it— anxiousness?— no, frustration?, “I didn’t mean to say ‘baby’. It just slipped out.”

“N- no, Y/N, it’s not your fault, it’s mine,” San whines. “This may sound really weird, but while I would rather die than hurt you, sugar-pie,” he murmurs, avoiding your heavy gaze on him, “I am… a man. And I don’t know how comfortable you are with me, but I am fully, undeniably erected, Y/N. Don’t go around calling me baby right now, or I’ll turn like the San in your dream.”

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”, you ask, purposefully innocent, but still in a way that makes it obviously suggestive, your tone dropping in an octave from its initial high-tone embarrassment. Where is your sudden confidence coming from? You don’t know, but- uh- well, you’re kinda over San here, both mentally and physically, it seems like.

“It feels like…”, San sighs, both reminiscing his lifetime of orgasms and feeling pretty fucking awkward in general, to be explaining this to you, while his body is screaming for him to do anything but talking.

“… It feels like being washed over by refreshing water on a hot summer day, after easing yourself into it with small splashes.” San is no poet and he sees this by how you’re flexing your face together, trying hard to understand.

“It feels like…,” he starts again, and you can swear you are feeling something twitch underneath you, and it’s probably his hard erection. “… Orgasm feel like, wow… How do they feel like, they— Uh…”

Somewhere between his words, San is looking at the ceiling, letting his eyes wander around everywhere your body isn’t laying dangerously close to his throbbing genital, but having to tell you how orgasms feel like is just the end of his senses. Now it’s not only his body urging him on, his girlfriend is trying to find out how they feel like without having experienced one, ever.

“… They are worth it.”

He’s trying to be a good boyfriend, but up until now, he’s been used to being the boyfriend of a virgin girlfriend who didn’t want sex at the moment. And that was the end of it. Definitely more than manageable, more doable than … this.

“Do you think I can enjoy them too?”, you question, revealing to him the true nature of your curiosity.

You’ve confirmed the pulsation between your legs seconds ago, when San let out a whine from his mouth, that was definitely not intended to sound as sexual as it did. You’re a virgin, not dumb, you know what’s seductive, sultry and arousing. Oh, you’re aroused, alright, maybe for the first time in your life— and your boyfriend is, too, so if this puzzle isn’t going to be put together this night, there must be something wrong in the air.

“I can’t speak for you, sugarplum. It was your dream, Y/N.”

“I don’t know how we started, but we were here, on our bed, naked, and you were… thrusting into me with this… almost scary vigour, it was— It was rough. And that one, I didn’t enjoy. You looked mean, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” San pouts and he looks downwards to show how sorry he is, but also to focus on your words only. If he sees your sweet face describing those things one more time, then he’ll have to disappear into the toilet soon. “I would never treat you like that.”

You blink a couple of times and lick your lips. “How would you treat me?”

“I would,” San mutters, finally meeting your eyes again, while he slowly, but surely begins to prop himself up by angling his arms, getting to your face-level. “I would treat you with care, reverence—with tenderness; I would get every inch of your skin to understand how it feels to be seen and loved, I would—“, he pants, he’s unable to breathe through his nose, and he just keeps on talking, he…

“YN, I— I would do everything to get to make your body flourish with my love, to make your heart grow with all I have, I want to—“

He goes silent.

Yes, San is a man. But it’s strange to you how he blames being a man for his weakness, but if there is a strong suit that your boyfriend has over you, it’s not being so strong that he can pull you down in a second— it’s having the mind of a lover, and a lover who promises to protect everyone he loves with his strength, and not because he’s getting his own satisfying release out of it.

A man and a lover; San is also your boyfriend, who knows what to tell you to make you grow weak. Let’s say he doesn’t do it a lot for reasons that include wanting to protect you, but as you are on top of him, listening to his words from beneath you, his words melt like fizzled honey on your tummy, crumbling with them.

“I want you, Y/N. And that’s my selfish dream.”

Being pulled down by gravity as San’s upper body rises, down to his crotch, you let him work his silent ways. He pushes himself up the last inch that it takes to be under your face, and his skin radiates heat onto yours.

There is not even a centimetre separating you two and San finally finds his words. “Please”, he begs, his voice above a whisper, “let me be your dream, Y/N.”

“I thought we already went through that,” you chuckle, getting your arms on each of San’s shoulders now, “baby.”

You can see he’s enjoying this a little too much, the way San is thoroughly covering every inch of your skin with butterfly kisses, as he has you laying on your back, letting you rub your hands over his torso to get used to the ‘intimacy’-part of it all.

Getting naked was an easy process, being exposed to the very last skin on the other hand, not. You’ve never been naked in front of him for this specific occasion, and since he knows, San doesn’t dare to rush you into more touching than needed, allowing your underwear to wrap around your privates until he’s finished giving you goosebumps all over the body.

With his soft lips, San kisses your shoulders and collarbones, whispering words of comfort into them, while you try your best to not make any lewd sounds. You didn’t know they came naturally, you had thought it was acting but — oh, goodness — no.

“Sugar,” San sputters— rearranging himself over you, one knee between your legs, the other over your leg, “let ‘em out. Let the sounds out.”

You gulp, as he glides his hand across your stomach to your lower abdomen, slightly scratching the seam of your panties, and San has placed his lips at your jawline, his voice vibrating in your ear, peppering kisses around the corner of your neck, entrancing you to fall deeper into your mattress, sighing in the calming feeling of your boyfriend.

“Only because you wanna hear me,” you murmur and wrap your arms around his upper body, running your hands across his back muscles that ease into your touch. “And that’s a bad thing, because…?”, San hums and begins to get lower with his kisses and his thumbs caressing where your pantyliner meets your thighs, warming up the small patch of skin there.

“Hmm,” you breathe out, San’s lips working their way down your cleavage, “Good… point.”

San smirks and brings his hands up, not letting a second pass where he is not feeling you under his fingertips. “There is nothing more that I want to hear,” he murmurs, his eyes appearing to become a bit foggy from your scent, San becoming absolutely lost in it, “except you, my love.”

Your breath comes out stuttered and stroke his bangs away to the side in order to have a better view on his face above your breast. He’s radiant, but as much as he’s excited to be doing this, San will stop as soon anything leaves your mouth asking him to, he promised you. In your dream, San just kept going. That’s why you didn’t want to retell the story. He forced you around, he thrusted into you with no choice, and he wouldn’t stop, until your dream cut off without you having orgasmed once throughout the thing.

So the dream itself didn’t get you to want this, and San knows this, the curiosity did. Curiosity of reaching the edge that you missed in your sleep, which you think you can only reach with the real San, with your real boyfriend.

“Can I touch you here, sugar?”, San asks, his upper body hovering over your torso, lips approaching your face, hands gliding up by your waist to meet your ribs. He’s done a good job not staring at your exposed nipples, but following the way from your jawline, neck, and collarbones, this is the next area to appreciate.

“Yes, please,” you answer, cupping your boyfriend’s cheek with one hand, inviting him to kiss you softly. San encloses your breast with a hand that has up to no muscle tension in it, kindly allowing it to get used to the new, but warm contact.

His rosy lips meet yours and he presses several kisses on them, reminding you of how much familiarity you’re dealing with right now. You kiss San all of the time, for all the reasons you love him, and as he kisses you right now, at this sleepy midnight, he’s showing you why sexual intercourse is just a fancy term to describe something so complex, that it actually becomes simple. He loves you. That’s all he has to do to have or not have sex with you.

With his palm, San brushes over your nipple, and by wonder, it hardens and makes goosebumps run over your back.

“You look so beautiful,” San lulls, smooching your lips one more time before he can finally take a look at your breasts and gulp, lick his lips, and ask you, “may I?”

“You may.”

The last kiss lingers delicately on your opened lips, as San breathes in your breast, kneading and softening it up. Automatically, you exhale and run your fingers through his uncombed hair. He sucks once and twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, and with your very valuable feedback, his other hand draws a long line across your curvature.

“Sannie... Baby…”, you whine, the slow, but sensual licking sending you down a sensation of being tickled and being caressed at the same time.

“Yes, pie?”, San grins, proud that he’s making you feel this way, no, that it’s him that is making you feel this way for the first time in your life. With each of your sweet sounds, his pride and ego grows and his lips lap around your nipples razzingly.

You tug at his hair and send him down deeper into your skin, slightly pushing him to get his head where you’ve found that you feel best, grabbing the fabric of the bedsheets under you with your other hand.

“It feels so good,” you whine, and San chuckles after seeing your grip, gliding his hand right between your ticklish fingers.

“Yeah?”, he coos and presses another kiss onto your mouth, adoring the way your eyebrows twitch inside according to his voice. “I’ll make you feel even better…”

San caresses the area under your boob, whispers into your ear, “Will you let me?”, and you nod, words inside your head turning into hazy exhales out of your mouth.

“You won’t regret it,” San chuckles and crosses his fingers into the surface of your hand, using your own hand to slowly, but surely slide down your stomach. You kind of get the idea of what he’s trying to do, but not really the image.

“You think I won’t regret it?”, you ask him, a bit anxious, — it’s your first time, after all— your soft skin under both of your fingertips becoming one, as he leads the hand down. “I don’t know so,” San admits, comforting you by kissing your forehead, “so I’m going to make you believe it, first.”

“Hm?”

San pushes his upper body up with the hand that has been at your breast and glides it behind your back, so he can get between you and the mattress, his naked upper body pressed against your shoulder. He plants an uncountable number of kisses onto your neck, and assists you down to your panties, keeping his eyes on you to confirm you’re okay with all that he’s doing.

You’ve never touched yourself on this bed. The last time you did was somewhere in your gleeful high-school teens, long before you met San, and if you’re honest, you’d rather have him touch you, but when San kisses you on the lips and both of your hands slide under the seam of your underwear. The rough fabric of the lace scrapes San’s hand and you meet the hot slickness you’ve become inside.

“Would you look at that,” San purrs, voice wispy— his finger is the only one to glide against your wet labia and explore the untouched lips. It helps that your hand is down there too, and it feels like a rubber hand illusion, you touching yourself while San does it for you.

“Y/N,” San moans into your ear, stirred by the sensation that is you. “You feel so good, don’t you, sugar?”

You inhale sharply, when San’s finger strokes over your clitoris, and straight away, your boyfriend presses kisses onto your temple. “S- Sannie,” you whine and provoked by your sounds, his finger circles around your clit again.

Sparks, tingles — you name it. With San kissing you all around the face to counteract the new stimulation, you can’t keep your legs straightened, folding your thighs around your and San’s arm with an overwhelmed sigh. “Sannie…”, you repeat yourself and look him in the eye.

“Aww, sugar,” San smiles and catches your forlorn gaze, flushed and drowned in his kisses. Your cheeks are burning red, but the same thing goes for San. Both of you are drunk in love, falling for each other deeper with every breath you take.

“Is this good?”, he asks and rubs your back with his thumb, the other finger teasing the slick entrance. “Y- yes,” you answer and San crunches his nose in admiration, slowly easing his finger around the tissue.

“Can you touch yourself for me?”, is San’s second question and you gulp at the sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice. He’s talking two octaves deeper, raspy, lascivious; he’s promiscuous in all he is doing, let it be nibbling at your earlobe, rubbing your clit, caressing your spine with utmost libertine care— you have a feeling you’re developing another crush for your boyfriend.

“Y- yes,” you stutter, but a bit anxious about doing something wrong. It feels so right when San does it, but he’s the more experienced one in this— at least that’s what you think. He removes his hand from the surface of yours and lets you do the rubbing for a short moment, and you try to replicate what he did to you, flicking your finger over your clitoris.

“Doing it so well,” San comments and he raises your upper body with his arm, making you sit up, slithering down while smothering your lower abdomen with sloppy kisses.

“R- really?”, you ask, and San nods, while kissing the inner sides of your thighs, his eyes looking at you sideways. “Of course. It’s your body, Y/N. Your beautiful, gorgeous body.”

As San gutters, you feel something swaying on your clit, when your boyfriend smirks and looks directly at your pussy. He’s so handsome, San is making you nervous, and his eyes are drilling into you lustfully.

“You’re so beautiful everywhere, sugar, what have I done to deserve this?”, he pants, hooking himself from under your thigh, hands resting on your hip bone.

You don’t know what to answer and just flutter with your eyelashes, exhaling, when San sticks his tongue out and slides across your slickness it in one stroke, looking up at you to catch your whiny reaction. He deserves all of it, not because he was patient enough to wait for it, but because San is the one to make you feel this pretty in the first place.

“It’s probably really predictable I was going to say this, but I can’t not say it, ” San gutters, his dimple dug deep into his cheek— he’s smiling, licking his lips, “you taste amazingly sweet, my love.”

You press your lips together and feel like you have to push San into your arousal again by his hair, combing through it. “D- do it again,” you beg, and San’s heart flutters. Not letting you wait, he inhales through his nose and laps his mouth around your glistening cunt. You already knew he was good with his tongue for you have french-kissed him before, but— but this is another type of tongue-work.

It’s slow, it’s sensual, but it still feels so exhilarating— how he’s sucking in your clitoris, laving over your muscled entrance that reacts to the movement of his tongue; it makes you breathe heavily and let out feathery moans.

“Feels so good,” you hush, and stroke his hair. San hums and at smiles with his eyes, getting one hand away from your leg to slowly run it towards your vagina.

“Are you really going to … make me cum?”, you ask, a bit plumply, both out of rush and nervousness.

“I would like to, yes,” San answers, kissing you all around the pelvis bone. His lips have become plump and his nose is also painted rosy red from how he planted his face into you. “Will you allow me to?”

“Please be careful,” you appeal and San nods. “Yes, Y/N. I promise I will never do anything to you that will hurt you. Not like that stupid… dream-San you talked about.”

You chuckle and caress his jawline with your thumb, San leaning his head into your hand. “I know you would never do that, Sannie,” you say and prop yourself with an elbow. “Please make me cum.”

San wants to say something, but he bites his lip and suppresses it, crawling closer to your throbbing, heated pussy. “What is it, baby?”, you ask him, and this time, you deliberatelywant to tease him by calling him that, winking slyly at him.

Your boyfriend blinks in disbelief and lets out a light-hearted scoff, his breathing comes in and out stuttered. “Y/N,” San hums, putting a leg over his shoulder and you feel like more air is hitting your wetness, “you have no… idea… what those words are doing to me.”

Your boyfriend gulps, and as you peek at him innocently, having to get used to the new position, he looks amazed and set ablaze. Is this your ‘aroused face’? You, with your lips parted ever-so soppily, looking sultry and lovable— San is savouring this sight, oh, this sight, and saving it into his brain so it will never leave his mind, add it to the collection of his memories of you.

“Show me,” you whisper, a fire starting to enflame in you, demanding San to extinguish it.

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do,” San hums and with that sentence, he’s at your cunt again, but more eager this time. The tongue flicks faster over your clitoris, his pants are getting breathier against your skin— San wants you, wants all of you, and before you know it, there’s a thumb rubbing at the entrance, notifying you that he is going to be penetrating soon.

“I’ll make you come over and over,” San breathes, and his eyes are filled with lust, hunger, desire, thirst— and you gasp at the sight of it alone, but his voice, his heart, his mind, is all painted and drowned in something purely innocent that is love. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart?”

He asks as if you stand a chance to resist him, but San seems to be doing this for the enjoyment that is pleasing you, and you’re more than happy to allow him to have his body all over yours for the sakes or it, because you love him so much. You’re already excited for when you know how to get your body all over his.

“That,” you exhale, feeling his thumb be replaced by his digit, the muscle of your entrance closing in on the finger tip, “is alright with me. I’m in, Mr. Choi, the deal’s settled.”

San chuckles at your light-hearted joke and you giggle as well, which allows his finger to glide into you slowly. Of course you’re tight, but you find it fascinating how your muscles ease around him and suck his finger in, the slickness squelching, as he licks over your slit.

“Looking forward to our cooperation,” he grins, lips pressed against your pussy and you can feel yourself slowly turning into mush. Your abdomen feels strangely ticklish, and there’s this pulling feeling that makes your body rock.

“… Ms. Choi.”

You scoff— San gave you his last name, how silly of him— but your amusement doesn’t hold on for too long, when San begins to move his finger around, angling it up and down.

“Mmhf,” you gutter and your legs close down on his head, the second leg finding its place on his other shoulder. “That—“, you try to gasp, but San being the quick learner he is, keeps stroking that one spot which got to this reaction in the first place.

“S- San!”, you whine; fuzzy, dizzy, light-heated, feeling like you’re going to shoot into space, to other worlds, and come right back to earth. In the meanwhile, your boyfriend’s tongue flicks even faster, head stuck between your thighs, his finger sliding in and out of you until you’re a whimpering mess.

“I’m here, baby,” he murmurs, finally looking up to you, wishing to meet your eyes again, but your head is rolling to the back, your upper body feels heavy and you slightly fall to the back, having to grab his hair to support yourself.

“I- I,” you stutter, feeling like there’s something that’s sizzling for explosion, and it seems San is feeling it too, in the way your pussy is tightening around his finger, and half-laughing out of glee about this discovery, San props himself up a little bit, your lower body raised from the mattress.

“Cum, sugar, cum,” he whispers, and as he adds a second finger that fills you up in a way that one finger couldn’t achieve, you fully suffocate him with your thighs, the thin string holding you away from release finally snapping.

“Fuck!”, you moan, and at first, San is surprised about your cussing, but then his eyes grow big, when there is more fluid coming out of your vagina that hasn’t been there beforehand. Explosion, sweet release, what should you call it? An orgasm— that’s what this is, but no, you’re also squirting, lower body spasming as you do so, and San is trying to react quickly by slurping it all in, but it’s too much— your bed gets wet. He drives the two fingers in and out and makes you a mess, makes a mess, makes you messy, getting all your squirt out and inside his mouth.

“San— Sannie— Baby!”, you pant, overstimulated by his fingers and lips that will just not stop, and you fear you’re going to choke your boyfriend to death with your thighs, but the same tingle appears in your lower abdomen again, felt everywhere in your tightness.

“Come on, come on, come on,” San growls, short of breath, and by angling his fingers upwards your walls, you see stars again, throwing your head into the bed and you pull at his hair, harshly and roughly, gripping his scalp for dear life, when you’re shot into bliss again.

“Ooooh baby,” San howls wispily, repeating his motion, but less ecstatic this time in order to not make you pass out from pleasure, if that happens at all.

And as licks the remaining fluid of his lips, and gets you back down again, San doesn’t lose any of his excitement, hair ruffled by your grip, lips swollen from using them so much. “Can I do that again? Can I please do that again?”

“Wha— What about you?”, you ask, panting, knowing that the penis inside his pyjamas has been hard since almost an eternity, but it seems like San doesn’t care about that at all. He looks euphoric, he looks like he saw a god (a goddess, mind you) and San just shakes his head.

“Don’t think about me, I’m,” he admits, and what you don’t know is that he just came inside his pants, when San saw your stunning orgasm-face— and he definitely has to clean it up before it soaks through, “all cared for here.”

San shuffles away from your legs to your face and kisses your forehead, wiping a bit of sweat away. “I’m gonna get towels and you’re gonna make yourself ready for a second time, alright?”

“But—“

“Will there be a ‘but’?”, San asks, and he’s prepared to let all go and just take a shower, but you just scratch your neck. “Don’t you want to fuck … me?”

“Ohhh, don’t worry, sugar, I want and will,” San grins and you smile, feeling a bit light-headed because of your first orgasm. For this to be your first orgasm, while many of your friends had their first time without having orgasmed—… it’s a lot, to admit the least.

Not to say that you’re trying to compare with them and feel superior, but if this is what’s waiting for is worth, you’d spend all that time again.

Again. And again, and—

“Again!”

You’re breathing heavily, skin slippy from your sweat — or, well, both of you are covered in body fluids, there are pearls of sweat dropping down on San, who, despite rubbing you clean with his hands, doesn’t even bother anymore to dry his wet arm anymore.

“Sannie,” you exhale, when San kisses your from behind, as you sit between his legs, “I- I th-think this is enough, I’m r-ready.”

“Hmmm?”, he hums, pressing his naked upper body at your back, his two fingers coming out of you for the nth time. Your hips have been spasming around for a long while now, and you feel sensitive and over-stimulated at your clitoris, but if there is one thing you’re still curious about after all those orgasms, it’s how San feels inside you not with his fingers but his girth.

“I want your dick inside,” you command directly, too sex-drunk to express your wish in any other way.

“Are you sure?”, San asks and kisses the nape of your neck. “We can do it any other time, sugar-pie, aren’t you tired by now?”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

You turn your head around and slightly pant, seeing San not lose any of his desirous colour in his eyes. “Then let’s not lose any time.”

San presses a deep kiss on your temple before he leaves your back, and you feel the warmth of his lips sit there, as he positions himself at the front, on his knees. He still has his boxer-shorts on, but that only goes so far, when he’s been leaking with pre-cum, never-mind has come in the same set an hour ago.

You can see it perfectly— San’s length, his girth, the way it moves by itself under the fabric; it looks captivating as much as it is arousing you again after all the times you’ve orgasmed this evening.

“Do you want to touch me?”, San asks, and trails his own hand over his breast, giving you an idea of what you can do to pleasure him.

“Yes, baby,” you answer and get on your knees as well, grabbing San by the hips and caressing the seam of his shorts with your thumbs. In the meanwhile, your lips seek for his vicinity and you place kisses on his neck. “I’d love to.”

“I love you so much,” San sighs and holds you by your head tenderly with both hands, cupping the circular form, feeling you get a taste of his sweaty skin at his neck. His Adam’s apple bops, when you slightly pull his boxers down and there’s resistance from his erection.

“You have a big dick, right?”, you ask, and San coughs— he was expecting you to say ‘I love you’ back first.

“U- uh,” he stammers, “yeah. It’s- uhm. I hope it’s not too big, Y/N.”

“Can it be too big?”

You ask him with genuine curiosity and San scratches the back of his head. “I was preparing you thoroughly for it, honey, that’s all… I can say.”

He harrumphes in the awkward conversation, and before he can get shy from your stare, you chuckle and kiss him, “I love you too, Sannie. I couldn’t imagine doing this with any other person.”

Your boyfriend slides his hand to your jaw and pulls up your head to kiss you, mumbling, “only do this with me, Y/N,” into your lips.

As his lips work against yours, you slide down your hands into his boxer-shorts and use your wrists to spread the spandex, getting San’s underwear off.

With your eyes closed, you hear San breathe in deeply through his nose and he rubs your back with both of his hands to push your naked body against his.

His dick feels hot, wet and mild, when it presses against your abdomen, and you subconsciously grind your lower body to identify it better. It is big. The two fingers don’t even come close to what you’re working with here, and in the moment, it’s really good that you feel loosened up by the numerous times San made you come.

“Please touch me,” San instructs you and you nod, opening your eyes to see his glistening tip pointed towards you. Without waiting, you leniently wrap your hand around it and San parts your lips to pant.

“I don’t think I’ll hold on for long,” he whimpers, and his pelvis twitches, when you squeeze your hand around the soft, heated, slick muscle.

“Wait, Sannie… Do we have condoms?”, you ask and to your surprise, San opens up the cupboard. You loosely remember when San asked you if he should buy condoms at the beginning of your relationship, and you know that you answered with an ‘I don’t know’ back then.

A year later, it turns out San has bought a pack, but didn’t talk about it until the time was ripe. “Do you want to do it for me?”, he asks you, ripping apart the plastic wrapper with his finger and mouth. That this took a wet dream to realise is funny to you, but as you’re in the moment, you can only gulp in anticipation.

You nod and continue to pump his length in your grasp, when you’re handed the flimsy condom. Is that even going to fit around him?

“Yes, it is going to fit,” San giggles at your subconsciously asked question, and then kisses you, “did dream-San wear a condom?”

You place the center of the condom on the tip of penis and slowly glide down the lubed silicone by the ring.

“No, I don’t think so,” you murmur, though you couldn’t care any less about your dream right now. San hums and bucks up his hip into your hand, making the condom hit the end of his length.

It frankly looks quite comical, the way the white outlines your boyfriend’s dick, but before you can laugh, San delicately pushes you at your ass— other hand on the back of your head to not make you hit the bed-frame, with you landing on your back, legs angled towards the sky.

San tsk’s about his alter-ego’s wrong-doings and shakes his head. “I think your brain has a very twisted image of me.”

You chuckle at how sulky San is about it, though you can’t take any responsibility. You also don’t know how your brain cooked up the imagination of San ramming into you raw, especially when your biggest fear has been that things were going to hurt. (Now that you know they don’t, you’re good to go, you think.)

But the real San touches you softly, carefully, endearingly faintly, even if his dick looks intimidatingly big; you’re covering your mouth at the sight of it alone.

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” San grins and flops his protected peen on your pussy, the girth of it weighing down on your sensitive bud.

“Sannie, baby, please be gentle,” you whine and San caresses your cheek, not finding your plead in any way offensive.

“I will, sweetheart,” he whispers, and his voice sounds sweet, melts sweetly in your ears, but when his tip is there, at your entrance, you have to grab his hand at your cheek forcefully.

It’s a stretch. If you had known it would have come to this, you would have asked San to add a third, no, maybe even a fourth finger, but maybe he knew too, that even that wouldn’t have helped with a lot.

Not to say that it hurts, but to feel your muscle be extended as he just pushes in the tip, you’re already panting. San intertwines his fingers and leans forward, trying to calm you down. “Are you okay, baby?”, he asks, pouting. “I can stop.”

“N- no,” you stutter, though the bit of movement has had him slide in deeper and thus, your cunt be stretched further. “It’s okay. Just be slow. I can do it.”

“No, Y/N, you have to want it,” San sighs and you press your face against his hand. “I want it,” you murmur, glancing up at him. “I want you, Sannie.”

He smiles in awe of your droopy eyes and luscious lips reaffirming your love to him, and San inhales deeply. “I’ll move a bit more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Both of you inhale at the same time, but it’s San this time to moan it out. “Oh, god,” he whimpers, “feels so good, Y/N. Feels so fucking good.”

And this is where you close your eyes and let your boyfriend do his thing over you, because San’s sounds are candy to your ears. He’s doing it slowly, and heaven knows he can’t push it just entirely just yet, but the first third that San has inside you is enough to make you grip the sheets.

“Are you alright? Baby, is it too much? Can I do more?”, San whines, and you’re too weak-hearted for his arousal-sake, that you sigh sultrily and say, “Sannie, you know what to do.”

“No, no, baby, please don’t say things like that, I really won’t—“

He groans and pushes himself further in. You have to strain your forehead and pull in your eyebrows to work around the fact that you have never felt your cunt be stuffed in like this, and oh god, you feel so stuffed.

“Baby, please tell me when you want me to stop,” San begs you, concerned about your facial expression, kissing your cheek repeatedly.

“This just feels unfamiliar, that’s all,” you whimper and San pulls out a little bit while you talk. “But you will tell me, right?”, he asks you, and gets a nod in return. You should be seeing black in front of you, given that you’ve closed your eyes, but after San pushes himself in again, there’s a piercing zap that makes you open your eyes wide.

“Sannie, wait—“

He immediately stops and both of you look at each other. San doesn’t move, anxious that anything will make you more anxious, when you grab him by his arms.

And with one glance down, you see it.

Blood.

Not a lot, fortunately so, but still, bleeding from your privates outside your period is terrifying, and it makes all of your heat flee away—

Blood!

There’s not a scream or a gasp leaving your mouth, rather just a short soundless inhale that indicates your surprise, when you close your eyes and cover them with the surface of your hands.

Blood?!

“Oh my god, sugar,” San exclaims silently, you don’t know if this is a first for him as well— and though both of you don’t panic as loudly as you could have, your boyfriend still looks mortified, eyes ripped open, mouth opened by a slit, when you remove your palms from your eyelids. “Did I hurt you? Did it hurt? Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, Sannie, it didn’t hurt— It didn’t—“

Not panicking, but still both stammering and not aware of what to do with your hands.

He pulls out and covers your private with the towel that he used to catch your fluid before, and San immediately claims a serious expression on his face, looking around to find something for you to hold onto. He finds you a pillow, puts it over your stomach, and you cuddle into it, trying to catch a breath.

You didn’t lie. It didn’t hurt, it really didn’t. At least not even half the the amount of blood that is covering the towel, and you don’t think anything else (let it be more preparation or whatever) could have had helped you two in this situation. Is it just a matter of luck? Of your body? Well, maybe you’re out of luck and your body is going lax as well.

San is removing the condom from his dick and fetching his boxer-shorts again to fully call it quits, using approximately 4 seconds before he disappears in your arms again and smothers you with kisses.

“But— but Sannie…”, you whimper, feeling kind of guilty to be leaving him hanging like this after he’s done so much for you, but he silences you with his lips.

“Don’t you dare say sorry, sugar-pie,” San smiles and brushes over your hair, continuing to peck your face, as he hugs you from aside, and his warm skin soothes the goosebumps you got from seeing red on yourself. “As long you’re not hurting.”

“Do you want to take a shower or do you want to sleep?”, San asks you and you shiver a little bit once the adrenaline has worn down and all that provides you comfort is your boyfriend’s vicinity. “I don’t know, Sannie,” you murmur into his breast and a hand rubs your back. You’re still naked, but San covers you up with a blanket. “You don’t have to know, sugar,” San whispers and rests his chin on top of your head. “Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You nod into his embrace, feeling exhausted, worn out and tired, and you start to breathe heavily into his skin, San rubbing his thumb across your lower back to match the rhythm of your breathing, your heartbeat slowing down.

You’re safe.

You’re home.

You’re not dreaming, you’re with your boyfriend, Choi San, and even though nobody will know what kind of dreams will visit you, what nightmares will make you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re, well, in love.

Comfortable, soft, warm, at ease, serene — happy; this is what love feels like. A dream doesn’t come close to the unworried warmth love provides, to the warmth the real San provides, and while you doze off, you and San whisper affirmations into each other’s presence that you’ll,

“Dream of me, Y/N.”

#choi san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #if you wanna see an epilogue pls request it because i find boyfie san so endearing #chokkiwa #chokko

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rkvriki · 1 year

Text

you spin me up high - lee heeseung (m)

pairing: football team captain!heeseung x slightly bimbo!fem reader

synopsis: No one was surprised when the football star Lee Heeseung started dating the local bimbo, Y/n L/n. They were like a match made in heaven hell, they weren't an official item, but how does Heeseung react when he sees his team rival approach her?

WARNINGS ! mature content (sorry to my minor followers >-< also its my first time writing smut to pls have mercy on me), jealousy, mentions of reader being a little dumb :D, public sex (in the school's bathroom lolz), oral (f receiving), heeseung calls reader a slut once lmao, sex?? they kinda fight, reader is sensitive :(, heeseung is a lil possessive, if there's more tell me pls 😭 grammar errors, proofreading is a painfull process ok? word count: 5.6k (i popped my full smut cherry ok )

A/N: um hello?! guess i wrote smut for the first time djfhdf do i like it? idk, maybe lmao. this is nothing like my blog at all, but this idea wasn't getting out of my head and i kinda just wrote it. thank you bae @dazed-hee for reassuring my insecure ass and thank you @loveywon for giving me energy to write this thing, i love you guys. if its too bad pls dont say anything and pretend it good okay?

You purse your lips as you look in the mirror, watching the way the light pink lipgloss transferred from one lip to another. Smiling at the mirror, you appreciated the final look of the hard work you did on your face and outfit, as you slightly adjusted your top.

You took a lot of pride in your beauty, you were very aware of your looks and you knew everyone who you encountered in your life found you pretty. It is obvious to the public’s eye, it’s an undeniable beauty. You were always one to spend hours and hours to make yourself look the best for the most simple activities, you just never knew when you’ll have a pleasant encounter. If needed, anyone could spot you from a mile away with your (mostly pink) bright and sparkly clothes and the big white bows that held your hair in many ways, adorning it in the prettiest way.

Anyone who didn’t know personally would say you were an airhead and a little bit dumb. It’s not your fault people talk about boring stuff that you know nothing about. The way your big doe eyes stared into the nothingness when you listened to someone talk about complex topics revealed that, in fact, there were no thoughts in that pretty head of yours. People often perceive you as someone unintelligent, when that wasn’t true at all, you are just a tiny bit slow. You consider yourself pretty successful seeing that you were in your dream college studying dentistry. You loved going to classes and socializing with people you knew in college. Making friends wasn’t a problem for you, always being a social butterfly since you were a little girl, but sadly there were girls who were mean to you, which often makes you pout to Heeseung when one of them frowns and tells you off, asking him why were they so mean and he just reassures you that they are jealous of your beauty and the fact you were able to score the hottest guy in college, which was not a lie, to be honest.

You loved Heeseung very much, even if you guys weren’t an official item you didn’t see other people and some girls in your school didn’t take that lightly. Both of you had a reputation for sleeping around but in different ways. Heeseung was known for going to parties and just fucking anyone who had a vagina, but never taking them seriously, only seeing them as one time hook-ups. While you were just known for being a hot bimbo who often liked to thank people for favors in a more fun way than usual, like for example, when Jeongin helped you fix your pc setup and you kissed his dimpled cheek and suddenly you were kissing his dick, it happens sometimes and you were fine with that. You had no shame about your sexuality, you were free to do whatever you wanted and to have sex with whoever you pleased.

Getting up from your seat in front of your big vanity, you walked to where your bunny’s cage was. Daisy was your cute bunny, a gift from a previous relationship. You petted her little head promising her cuddles and snacks when you came back. After greeting her goodbye you grabbed your things for class and made your way out of your apartment as your car keys jiggled in your hand.

Reaching campus, obviously only after getting a muffin from the local cafe, you

sighed getting mentally ready for classes. Smiling to yourself, you composed your posture while manifesting the best day you could ever have, not wanting anything or anyone to ruin the perfect mood you woke up with.

As soon as you walked in the hallway you heard people greet you, which you returned with your sweet toothy smile and a wave. Your sweet vanilla scent filled the area and the heels from your platform shoes could be heard, making people’s heads turn to you.

“Hey y/n, love the skirt!” a girl you recognized from biology class said, as she complimented you, making you smile at her and tell her a high pitched thanks in return. You kept walking as more people greeted you. Popularity wasn’t something you seeked but it was something you had, maybe a consequence of your looks or your bubbly personality, which was something people usually took advantage of. It wasn’t something that bothered you in the beginning, when you were unaware of some girls’ intentions with you when they approached you so suddenly asking to be friends with you, but soon, you realized how you were being used by them so they could get with a guy they wanted or just to try and be as popular as you were. Even so, you kept up the nice and humble personality you always had, hence why you were so known amongst students, always showing availability to help others that sometimes wasn’t given in return, making your big heart break a little.

Looking at the time on your phone, it marked 9:30am and you were relieved to see you had a lot of time until class started. You came early today to spend a little time with Heeseung, since your classes didn’t start until 11am. You made your way to the campus cafeteria that was mostly empty aside from people like you who only had classes later in the morning. You sat at a table that had two seats, since Heeseung would arrive at any moment now, knowing him he probably went to hit the gym before meeting you. You decided to distract yourself by playing games on your phone. As you were doing so, someone walked towards you, making you look up at them. In front of you was one of Heeseng’s teammates that was one year above you, one that he had warned you about, but you being you, still smiled at him.

“Hey, princess. Fancy seeing you here alone.” You cringed at the pet name he gave you that sounded different when it came from Hee’s mouth, but still you kept the smile nonetheless. “Hey, Jihoon! Yeah, it’s nice seeing you too!” You were trying your best not to sound rude, the glint in his eyes didn’t hide his intentions with you.

Flirting with guys for fun is almost a hobby for you, or an old one. Since you started your thing with Heeseung it didn’t happen that much, except in situations where you needed free drinks or discounts at your favorite make up store. Still, you know when to and not to do it and right now, it’s a case where it’s preferable if you don’t do it and it’s making you really nervous. Jihoon had a reputation for stealing other guys’ girls but never in his life did he do it to any of his teammates, especially to Heeseung. He knew it could take his spot in the team away and he worked his ass off to get where he is right now. Besides, everyone knows better than to mess with Heeseung, who was also known for giving good ass beatings when needed to, but at this moment he seemed to forget about it or just didn’t care at all.

Looking behind Jihoon you noticed his friend group seated in a table further from yours, meaning this was probably a planned encounter from their side. Jihoon’s chuckle brought you back to reality, making you look back at him.

“Couldn’t help but notice you look so pretty from afar and even prettier now that i got a closer look.”

“Thanks! I worked really hard on my makeup today.” You answered him looking up at him with your doe eyes, trying to keep up the sweet tone in your voice. Before you and Heeseung started whatever you had going on, Jihoon already claimed you as his “friend” and you did too! In your head the comments he made for you were nothing but nice compliments friends gave each other, but when Heeseung found out about it he didn’t seem happy to know and almost scolded you to stay away from him because boys like him never had good intentions with you. The sound of the cafeteria’s door opening didn’t make Jihoon look back but it made you look, praying it was finally Heeseung, and thankfully your prayers were answered as he walked in looking around, probably trying to find you. You could hear Jihoon’s voice, but you paid him no attention as you saw Heeseung’s face frown when he spotted the man in front of you. Your heart started beating a little faster, as you anticipated the possible interaction between the two men.

“Say how about you and I spend some time alone this Fri-”

Jihoon was quickly cut by the sound of a chair scraping against the ground. He looked to where it came from only to see Heeseung sitting while looking at him with a raised brow. Jihoon stood in his place, obviously not expecting to see your boyfriend, thinking you were gonna be here alone.

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to see here, so might as well make your way out and leave.”

Jihoon opened his mouth to say something but he decided it was best to not say anything for the sake of his football career. As he turned in his heels to walk away, Heeseung got up and grabbed the other man’s shoulder, leaning down to his height and muttering in his ear “I really hope this is the last time I see you talk to her or even come close to it. You and I both know better than letting this happen again, don’t we?” Jihoon’s eye slightly twitched as he shrugged Heeseung’s hand off his shoulder and walked away from where you were.

Heeseung sat back, an angry frown adorned his face. “You took too long!” You said after checking it was already 10am, as you slightly pouted at him while eating the small piece that was left from your muffin. “What did I tell you about Jihoon? I thought I had warned you about him, or did I?” From the way he was talking you could see he was not a little bit happy with the situation but it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t just be rude to him. “It’s not my fault Hee, besides he did nothing, he was just complimenting me!” Heeseung just seemed to get angrier with your answer, making a pout make its way back to your plush lips. “Y/n, how many times do i need to tell you what his intentions are, geez!” Y/n, he only called you that when he was mad. Why is he getting mad at you when it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to get mad at him, but the way he was acting with you hurt you a little. You felt your eyes water slightly. “Look Heeseung, I know how to protect myself, I don't need you to warn me about Jihoon or anyone, besides he never did anything to me!” You felt bad talking with him like that, but you weren’t a helpless child, you were a little slow but not dumb. Heeseung’s frown deepened after hearing your words, he should be the one getting mad not you at him. “I don't want to keep having this conversation with you. I’m leaving now.” Heeseung grabbed his bag as he got up to leave. Words weren’t coming out of your mouth no matter how many times you opened it to talk and ask him to stay. As the cafeteria’s door slammed close you felt your eyes water with tears as you flinched at the sound. Pouting your lips, you started wondering why he got so mad when you did nothing wrong.

You understood he was being protective of you but it still broke your heart into pieces when his loud voice echoed back in your mind. A single tear fell from your eyes making you quickly but carefully wipe it so as to not ruin your makeup that you put extra effort in. You grabbed your mini mirror from your bag as you checked your face, smiling when it was still intact. You grabbed your stuff as you decided to text your friends to check if it was available since your class wasn’t until 40 minutes.

—-------------------------------

“And he got really mad at me when it wasn’t even my fault!”

Chaewon and you were sitting in the benches in the open area of campus as you were telling her about this morning's events. Chaewon has been your friend since you entered college and both of you seemed to click instantly when you met at the dorm that both of you decided to move out from, getting your own apartments. You both shared everything with each other, she was your ride or die and shopping partner. She was the first one to know when Heeseung slid in your dm’s and she wasn’t so happy about it. Knowing about his reputation, she always told you to be careful afraid you might get hurt but you always reassured her that he was treating you nicely and after a year of going out with him she stopped nagging about the boy. Hearing this story, Chaewon wanted to give a I warned you type of scolding, but she held herself back seeing you teary eyed as you spoke. She let out a sigh as she put down the cereal bar she was eating.

“Look I really want to tell you that I knew this would happen but I won't. He is being a complete asshole and don’t you dare run to him, he is the one who should be apologizing and if he really likes you he will.” She grabbed your fidgeting hands as she kept talking “Besides, as much as it hurts me to admit it, in a whole year Heeseung never did anything to hurt you and even though this doesn’t justify his behavior, he probably was acting out of jealousy I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to let it out on you.” You sighed as you looked at her slightly smiling. “Yeah I know that but he still hurt me a lot.” You said as you sniffled and held your tears back. “Anyway, class is almost starting so I’ll get going and you should too.” Chaewon said as she got up and grabbed her things, waiting for you to do the same. You bid her goodbye and made your way to where your class was.

—-------------------------------

You had your head propped in your head as you tried to understand what the teacher was saying, but his words were nothing but background noise as you couldn’t stop thinking about Heeseung. You grabbed your pen as you started to take notes, midterms were close and you couldn’t afford to fail. As you were focused on the teacher's explanation you heard your phone buzz in your bag but ignored it and kept focusing on class. You kept writing and the buzz continued making some heads turn into your direction. You muttered an apology as you grabbed your phone to check who was texting you, seeing Heeseung’s name on your screen.

hee💘: meet me in the boy’s bathroom on the 2nd floor

hee💘: now

You kept staring at his texts not knowing what to do. Chaewon’s words were replaying in your head “don’t you dare go back to him”. You know you should ignore him, but just once wouldn’t hurt anyone, besides she doesn’t need to know about this. Putting your phone back in your bag along with the rest of your supplies, you got up quietly to not disturb anyone. You felt your hands shaking in anticipation as you walked down the hallway making your way upstairs to the second floor. Your legs felt wobbly as you felt the tight anxious feeling forming in your chest, not knowing what to expect from this encounter. You reached the second floor and looked around trying to find the way to the bathroom. As you were almost reaching your destination, you saw Heeseung from afar leaning against the wall as he scrolled through his phone. The sound of your steps getting closer made him look up just to find you looking at him with the does he adored so much, making him try his best to not melt right then and there. He put his phone away and stood straight as he looked you up and down, making you gulp, fearing he might say. Heeseung didn’t say anything as pushed you by the wrist, taking you inside the bathroom. You let your things fall to the ground, as he pushed you against the door, his hand reaching behind you to lock the door as the other made its way around your waist.

Your head was feeling fuzzy as your mind was filled with nothing but Heeseung, the electric feeling of his hands caressing your waist made your heart flutter. Your heart started beating faster as you looked in his eyes, pupils dilated and filled with lust. Your hands slowly made their way around his neck as he leaned his head down to your level. Your noses were touching and he had his forehead touching yours, a small movement would make your lips touch, but still, none of you dared to make a move as you stared into each others’ eyes.

You were the first to break eye contact as you slammed your lips against his’, not being able to hold it anymore, the tension in the air was heavy and it was making you feel like you were out of breath. Heeseung kissed you back with as much force as you did, both of your lips moving together, fitting like a puzzle piece falling in the right place. You felt one of Heeseung’s hands move down to your butt, squeezing the plump flesh there, making you gasp. He took it as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, making you leave a quiet moan inside his own mouth. His tongue moved in sync with yours, entwined and fighting for dominance. Your hands started moving as if on their own, sliding down his body until they reached his belt, pulling his hips against your own. You moaned at the feeling of his slightly hardened length, one of your hands leaving its palace from the belt and coming to his front to rub at his boner, making him hiss in your mouth.

The room was filled with sounds of your lips smacking against each other along with the sounds you both let out. Hesseung’s hand left your waist as it slowly moved down your torso towards your tight, squeezing the flesh there. His hand slid to the inside of your thigh, the feeling of his hand making your skin crawl with chills as his hand moved further, touching your clothed core, feeling the outline of your slit. His thumb applied pressure in your clit, just enough to make you pull away from the kiss, gasping for air and turning your head away from him. Heeseung started leaving kisses on your neck, reaching for the spot he knew made you crazy as he left marks along the side of it, making you moan out loud at the feeling of his lips along with his thumb on your clit.

“Already going dumb for me, huh baby?” He said as he smirked against your neck, making you hide your face in his neck in embarrassment. “Nuh-uh, don’t shy away from me now baby. Look at me, baby.” You took your face from his neck, leaning your head back against the door as you looked up at him. Heeseung smiled at you, taking both of his hands to cradle your face against his palms. “You know I love you right?” You nodded, smiling at him, as your face leaned against his touch. “And I love you, Hee, so much.” Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, as he left a breathy chuckle. He connected your lips again, swiping his tongue against your lower lip, making you open your mouth as his tongue made its way to yours. His hands started going inside your top, moving up to your bra, as he started massaging your breasts, you started moaning inside his mouth, muffling the sounds you made.

“Hee, just take my shirt off, please.” You whined against his lips as he chuckled at your eagerness. He pulled away from your lips and pushed your shirt up, taking it off of you with ease. You pulled him to kiss you again, as his hands snaked around your back, unclasping your bra, moving it down your arms and letting it fall freely onto the floor. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing down to your collarbones, marking the area, leaving trails of spit as he started kissing down to your nipples. His mouth automatically closed around your left nipple, sucking the small nub as his free hand moved to massage and pinch the other. Heeseung’s mouth was making loud wet sounds, mixing in the air with your breathy moans. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for friction, feeling your underwear stick against your core.

“Hee, please, I need more.” You whined as you twisted and turned against the door. “Please what baby, need you to be specific, angel.” He said as he moved his mouth to your other boob, a trail of spit connecting it to your now abused boob from all the biting and sucking. You whined in complaint, your brain already not functioning completely as the only thing you could think about now was how much you needed Heeseung’s cock or fingers. “Need your fingers, please Hee, just give me something.” The desperation in your voice was noticeable and Heeseung spent no time in pulling your skirt down along with your panties, leaving you naked aside from your shoes and pink lacy socks that you loved so much.

Heeseung picked you up and sat you down in one of the toilets inside the stalls. He kneeled down in front of you, putting your legs on his shoulders, giving him a perfect view of your raw and glistening cunt. He licked his lips as he looked at you, seeing the neediness in your eyes. He started kissing the inside of your thighs, alternating between licking and biting the flesh, making you whine at the pleasure the pain gave you. You felt his breath hitting your pussy, making you shiver from the feeling and shudder in anticipation. His thumbs moved to your labia, as they pushed your lips apart, fully exposing you to him.

“Hee, please, I can’t wait anymore, I beg you.” Your whines were getting louder, leaving little to the imagination of anyone who passed by. “Baby I will do anything you want, but I need you to be quiet, can you do that for me?” You nodded, not being able to form coherent words even if you tried.

Heeseung finally let his mouth fall against your pussy, as his lips found their place around your clit, sucking the swollen nub, making you bite your lip to try to hold back your moans, your hands tangled in his hair, needing something to grasp onto. His tongue started making figure 8 in your nub, your toes curling at the pleasure he was giving you, your mouth fell open into an O shape as breathy moans slipped past your lips. Heeseung’s mouth left your cunt, making you whine at the loss, one of his hands making their way to your gaping hole, rubbing your entrance and slipping a finger inside with ease, thrusting it inside and out. You throw your head back in pleasure and let out a broken whine, making Heeseung’s move come to a halt. Your head coming back up as you looked at him, grinding your hips against his fingers, trying to get him to move.

“If you don’t keep it downI’ll just stop right here and take care of myself and make you watch, got it?” His threat made you gulp and nod quickly at his words. You gasped as his finger started moving again at a faster pace. “Please, more, Hee. Give me more!” Your voice came out as a whisper, feeling like if you talked louder your voice would betray you. Heeseung complied with your request as he inserted another finger inside your leaking hole. You bring your hands against your mouth, trying to muffle the noises, as you feel yourself getting closer to your high. Your walls were tightening against his fingers as you felt the knot form in your tummy. Heeseung felt that and he put his mouth back on your clit, sucking the poor nub, aiding you to reach your high faster. One of your hands made their way back in his hair, pulling the hair, feeling the knot almost bursting.

“Hee, I’m so fucking close, don’t stop. Oh, please, don’t stop.” You breathed out as your chest heaved with pleasure. Little high pitched whines started escaping your mouth, getting louder and louder as you got closer. “Fuck, Heeseung, I’m gonna cum! Shit Hee, I’m cum-” Your didn’t even get to finish your sentence as you reached your climax, arching your back away from the toilet, feeling your walls pulse aggressively around Heeseung’s fingers. He moaned as he tasted your cum against his tongue, his fingers still moving, helping you ride out your orgasm. When you got more calm, Heeseung took his fingers out, pushing them inside your mouth making you lick them clean as his mouth licked your pussy clean, making you choke on his fingers when you tried to gasp from overstimulation.

Heeseung pulled back, smirking as he looked at your fucked out state. You pulled him by his neck, slamming your lips against his, tasting yourself in his tongue. You both were moaning in the kiss, you needy more and Heeseung needing to relieve the raging boner that was pushing against his pants, almost painfully. You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and gasping for air. You looked down to his crotch seeing his boner, now more prominent and definitely rock hard. Poor baby held back this hold time, you thought.

“Hee, I want to suck you off.”

“There’s no time for that, classes are almost ending and I just want to feel your pussy right now.”

“But i wan-” Heeseung cut you off by slamming his lips against yours. You instantly fall into his touch, your hands immediately make their way inside his shirt, feeling his abs against your touch. You started to pull his shirt up, making him pull away from you to take it off of him. Your lips connected again, needy moans leaving both of your lips and your noses bumped against each other. Your hands fumbled around his thighs as you finally found his belt and started unbuckling it, undoing his button to finally push his pants down enough to reveal his boxers, both too needy to take them off completely. Your hands palmed and squeezed his cock, making him groan against your lips and roll his hips against your hand. your hands wrapped around the waistband of his underwear to pull it down, freeing his cock making it slap against his abs, staining them with pre cum. You pulled away from him to look at his cock, mouth watering at the sight before you. You never had seen such a pretty cock, curved just the perfect way, with one vein adorning the underside, going from the base to the tip. You raised your hand to wrap around the base, tightening it around his member and moving it up until it reached the tip, watching as a bead of cum spilled from his tip. You started moving your hand up and down his length, making him hiss as he threw his head back.

“Fuck baby, you’re so good for me.” He said as he looked at you, making you smile sweetly at him, feeling fuzzy on the inside as you kept your movements steady. “Shit. Baby, come here, if I don't get inside you right now I’ll go crazy.”

Heeseung picked you up once again, you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed you against the wall. Your hands were around his neck as he grabbed his cock and aligned it with your entrance.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yeah, go on.”

With your consent, Heeseung slid himself inside you with ease, a slick sound echoing in the stall as he buried himself completely inside you, making you open your mouth as a silent moan left your mouth as he put his face on the crook of your neck. He started moving at a slow pace, making you throw your head against the wall from the delicious feeling his cock gave you. His slow movements never faltered, not failing to make you squirm in his hold, but still you needed more.

“Hee, please faster.” You pleaded, needing more from him.

“You’re one needy slut, aren’t you? Always asking for more, mnh?”

Despite his words, Heeseung adjusted your position in his arms before he started slamming his hips against yours. Instantly, you hid your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds that escaped your lips. The sound of his balls hitting your ass echoed in the stall and could possibly be heard by anyone standing close to the door outside. Gasps were leaving your lips, combining with Heeseungs low groans against your own neck. The squelching sound coming from your pussy was like music to Heeseung’s ears, making his dick twitch inside you, causing you to let out a loud moan. Your nails scratched down his back enough to make it bleed a little and your brain was numb from all the pleasure you had received today, feeling grateful for Heeseung and his perfect cock.

Heeseung changes his position slightly, making the tip of his cock hit the spongy spot inside you, making you clench tightly against his throbbing cock.You were bouncing up and down in his length, your tits bouncing right in front of his face, making his lean down to put on of your nipples in his mouth. The feeling of his tip repeatedly hitting that spot along with the friction his pelvis caused against your clit, made you feel the familiar knot form again, making you lean back fully against the wall as Heeseung’s thrusts started getting sloppy, meaning he was also close.

“Heeseung I’m going- fuck”

“I know, baby, me too. Cum with me, baby. Can you do that?” You nodded at his words, feeling yourself clench again. Heeseung’s hand came down to where your bodies met and he started rubbing your clit in fast motions, making you get closer to your high. Your breath started getting quicker with each thrust. Your tits bouncing with every movement you and him made.

“Fuck. Hee, I’m so close, shit!” You said as you felt your clit pulsating. “Shit, come for me baby, fuck.”

You did as he said as you felt yourself cum, gushing your essence all over his cock. Your legs were shaking and your hands were squeezing his biceps as you. His release coming right after yours, feeling his cum paint your walls, the warm liquid starting to form a white ring around his base. Heeseung moaned as you both rode out your highs, hissing from the slight overstimulation. He slowly pulled out of you, watching as your pussy filled with his cum started slowly leaking.

The post climax reality was hitting you and you felt a pang in your chest, reminding yourself that you should be mad and hurt at him. Heeseung felt the shift in your mood, knowing very well why you were feeling like this. Before he did anything, he helped you clean up, grabbing toilet paper to clean your thighs and cunt, making you hiss from how sensitive you still were, which made him whisper a small apology before he kissed your cheek. After you both were clean you picked the clothes scattered across the floor, leaving the stall you checked yourself in the mirror seeing you red and slightly sweaty, ready to make the walk of shame as you heard the bell ring just in time.

Before you could leave Heeseung grabbed your hand making you look at him.

“Um listen, you probably think I'm a jerk right now, which you have all the right to, but I want you to know that I am genuinely sorry. What I did to you was not right, I was acting out of pure jealousy but it doesn’t mean I should have let it out on you. I love you and I am sorry, angel.” He said as he looked down ashamed at himself. You smiled at him, happy that he was able to recognize his mistake. “I forgive you Heeseung, even if you hurt me a lot. What you did left me really sad and hurt, but we both know I love you too much to not forgive you. Now we should get going, everyone is leaving class.” Heeseung nodded at you grinning like an idiot in love as he bent down to your height, giving you a long peck, making you smile in the kiss.

Heeseung grabbed your hand and unlocked the door as you both made your way out. When Heeseung opened the door, he was faced with a student who just wanted to use the bathroom ,ready to push past him until he saw you behind the taller man. You looked up and smiled, waving your manicured hand at him.

“Hi Jihoon!”

762 notes · View notes

harrys-titties · 2 years

Text

Harry’s a dick, and Y/N hates him for it.

WARNINGS: small dick energy from Harry until all of a sudden it’s big dick energy, if anyone treats you like this at work, please for the love of god go to HR, switch Harry and Y/N, degrading sex, PIV sex, oral (fem and male receiving,) rimming, spit kink, idk man lots of different sex things in this, lots o’ swearing bc it wouldn’t be a fic by me without it and lots of plot where they just hate each other so much lol.

(A/N Here it is; love you all. Pls let me know your thoughts!)

-masterlist-

Y/N hated Harry.

She hated his perfectly coiffed hair and his smooth, glowy skin. She hated his award-winning smile, which drew people in like a siren or summat, his melodic laugh and the swoon of his voice, which could charm even the grumpiest of coworkers. She hated his leather jackets and his heeled boots, his vanilla and tobacco scent and his tattoos.

And she especially hated the way he teased her.

Y/N would consider herself a strong and willful woman; she was intelligent and knowledgeable about her work. She cared about her clients and the colleagues around her, even if they were more often laughing at her than actually talking to her. She was well-spoken and confident, but something about Harry riddled her into a bumbling fool for some reason. She could hardly form a sentence around him. And if, by some miracle, she did, it was primitive and nonsensical, often made more embarrassing by the fact that she was usually trying to defend herself against his incessant taunting.

It was infuriating. Each time she saw him leaving one of the elevators across from her desk, she would internally groan, duck her head and try and focus on whatever was on her computer screen. Anything to avoid capturing his attention, and no doubt his mockery straight after. Why did he need to come down here so often? It felt like he was doing it on purpose. None of the other members on the associate's team would bother to come down to the analyst floor (too busy dealing with actual clients and pretending they were much better than any analyst still wading through spreadsheets and numbers), but each day he would arrive, waltzing down and gliding across the shitty commercial carpet as if he owned the place, and Y/N fucking hated it.

She couldn't be alone in it; she knew she couldn't. But her lonesome status within her own team made it hard to ask, and it looked as if everyone worshipped the very floor he walked on, greeting him as if he was a celebrity and laughing at his less than funny jokes (mainly when they were aimed at her.)

She'd had enough, and each time she heard the soft pat of his shoes against the carpet heading straight towards her desk, she'd attempt to gear herself up for the fight, try and prepare exactly what she was to say when he would inevitably point out something that didn't meet his satisfaction. But each time, she would only look at him dumbly in response, the words getting choked in her throat and coming out in a mismatch of errs and ums. She hated the way he'd stand at her desk waiting for her response, his arms across his chest and his shit-eating smirk plastered across his (let's be honest, not that good looking) face.

Until she'd finally give up, a cheerful laugh leaving him and a "still learning to speak, are we?" Or an, "hm, such a good point" thrown behind him as he stalked off.

It was safe to say, Y/N fucking hated Harry Styles.

——

Harry had a good life and an even better job. He'd basically waltzed into the company when he was fresh out of university, applying for a role much above his pay grade and far beyond his experience level.

Even he was shocked when he actually got the position, understanding that charm and wit could only get you so far in investment banking. But it seemed flirting with the Vice President of the company and the hiring director during his interview paid off some, allowing him to nestle into an associate's role without ever having to even understand how to calculate the statistics down on the analyst's level.

He was grateful, his skill always lying in dealing with people, often knowing the best place to exactly prick and prod at to get a favoured reaction, and he proudly brought that ability into his work, swindling money from the country's finest CEO's none the wiser that they were talking to someone who had skipped half of his classes in university, relying heavily on his natural intelligence and the occasional blowie for some notes to pass the semester.

It wasn't Harry's fault he was witty and likeable. He only used it to his advantage, no one could blame him for that. He was more than used to getting what he wanted; coworkers usually more than willing to help him out where they could and kiss at his feet if he so requested, taking whatever he said blindly as the truth. There were only a few select people on this earth that Harry tolerated calling him out on his bullshit, those being his mum, his sister and Sarah, who just so happened to be sitting in front of him doing so right now.

It had started when they'd both gone down to the analyst's floor, needing to pick up reports from last week to discuss in Harry's next meeting, when he'd made his daily stop at Y/N's desk. She was a nervous little thing, constantly shaking and choking up around him, barely even able to look him in the eye for longer than a second, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't love to watch her squirm.

He'd noticed a little origami flower sitting on her desk, which ordinarily Harry may have considered cute, but it was too easy. He had picked it up, watching as she'd rushed to stop him, her face construed in panic, an intense overreaction to a piece of folded paper if you asked him. "Ohh, is this what you were busy learning during your mathematics class in uni?" He didn't wait for her to respond, continuing regardless of her open mouth, clearly ready to speak. "Now your reports make a lot more sense. Maybe you can try and redeem them by folding them into flowers next time? Make them a tad less painful for me to try and decipher, hm?"

He had watched as her shoulders slumped, her upper lip twitching, and he waited as he always did for her to respond. He kind of hoped one day she would give him a bit more than the pathetic attempt she usually produced to construct a basic sentence, but today hadn't been the day. A tattered "um, I-, well my mother taught… I didn't-," leaving her. He had interrupted her once again, revelling in the way her hand wound into a fist on the desk in front of them, "err, I-, um," he stuttered mockingly, "I'll stop you right there, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself."

He had twirled the stem of the fake flower between his thumb and forefinger, watching as the glint from the light hitting his ring blinded the girl in front of him momentarily, before popping it in the breast pocket of his silk shirt, turning around without acknowledging her again and winking at a cute red-head sitting on the desk across from Y/N's.

Sarah hadn't been too impressed, always nagging him to be nicer to the analysts who were slugging their way through their jobs the same way so many of the associates in Harry's team had before being promoted. And well, Harry was nice to them, just maybe not to Y/N.

"You were awful, H, god. I felt so sorry for the poor girl. Did you see how they all laughed at her as you teased her?" He actually hadn't, to be fair. His teasing wasn't for the entertainment of the office. If anything, it was for his own amusement. He hadn't even noticed them snickering, too busy focusing on the angry flush crawling up Y/N's neck as he spoke and the cute little crease between her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"It's all friendly banter, Sarah. Bet she likes the attention."

He watched as Sarah's lip raised in disgust, "you're such a pig." Harry was ready for the admonishment he was about to receive, now used to the boring lectures from Sarah, who cared a little too much about everyone around her. One time even going so far as to do thirty minutes of photocopying for one of the pricks on their floor because she felt bad his pet hamster had died. He had come to expect the service, though, going so far as to drop extra work on Sarah's desk each morning for two weeks until Harry had stepped in, too used to people abusing Sarah's kindness, tearing the paper in half right in front of the pricks desk and letting him know where the next lot would be shoved if it ended up on Sarah's desk again.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you liked giving her the extra attention in your own narcissistic and fucked up way." Harry scoffs, his own lip drawing to match the pose Sarah's was still stuck in. Sure he liked teasing her, and he liked when her cheeks would flush, and her lips would purse, but what Sarah was insinuating? Absolutely not. She wasn't his type, too vanilla and frankly dull for him. Plus, he usually liked his dates to be able to at least say a complete sentence to him without turning beet red. "Why the fuck would I be attracted to her? She's not my type in the slightest. Have you seen the ugly blouses she wears?"

Sarah rolls her eyes in response, taking a sip of her steaming coffee and leaning forward on the table in front of him, "c'mon, Haz, she's pretty, and she's smart. I'm not buying into that report bullshit; hers are always the neatest and most accurate, and you know it."

He did know that.

So what?

He had exaggerated a little bit while talking to her; sue him. "You know you're allowed to find her attractive, right? Even if she’s not your usual type. From what I've heard, she's sweet, a bit fiery even." Not in a million years could he picture the puppy-like girl who blushed when he came near her as fiery. She was too demure, too plain to strike Harry as anything but a quick entertainment fix, and he was beginning to become frustrated with Sarah's pointed stare. "I don't give a fuck. She could be the fucking Beyonce's long-lost sister, and I wouldn't give a fuck about her, so let's just drop it."

Sighing, Sarah nods, picking up the magazine she'd bought at lunch and begins to read it, leaving Harry to his own thoughts. But now he wasn't so sure. Was she attractive? He guesses she always smelt nice and had a pretty smile from the few times he'd seen her giving it to someone else. She seemed a bit plain, but he knew he's only ever seen her fuming silently at her desk when he was around. While her clothes were often dated and also a bit ordinary, he does recall her wearing a nice pair of Gucci loafers into work one time, but Harry had quickly pounced on that, asking if she had robbed someone to get her hands on them, even though he had actually quite liked them and had gone out and bought a similar pair that weekend.

Eh, what did it matter? He wasn't going to stop, and he hardly cared if the girl he was teasing was hot anyway. There were plenty of fish in the office for Harry to fry, and the knobby kneed freak wasn't going to be one of them.

He opens his yoghurt cup, sighing slightly while he eats, thinking how nice his life really was and wondering if that red-head he'd winked at earlier today was single.

——

Y/N hated getting called into the boss's office, she's not sure she knows anyone that likes it (maybe Harry if he saw it as another chance to manipulate their boss into giving him a holiday house in Prague or whatever his dickish tendencies allowed him to do,) but it reminded her too much of standing in front of her father's desk, receiving a scolding for getting a 'B' rather than an 'A' on her biology exam or for being home five minutes after her curfew.

The long elevator trip up was spent with an anxious belly and Y/N trying to calm her breathing, each inhale and exhale laboured and unnatural. It's only made worse when the lift stops on Harry's floor, and the man himself steps into the elevator, all flared pants and suspenders, his telltale vanilla scent wafting over the other side of the lift where Y/N is desperately trying to keep her head down so as not to provoke him.

She feels his stare through the mirrored walls and waits for the barrage of mockery to come, but it never does. Instead, when Y/N glances over at him, she sees him give her a once over, starting down at her brown boots and moving up to her face, where his gaze meets hers. He holds it for a moment, looking between her two irises and squinting his eyes some, prolonging the silence between them before the elevator dings. Without another word, he tears his stare away from her and walks through the open doors onto the associate's floor, a trail of vanilla left behind him.

Y/N thinks that's the first time she's ever been so close to Harry without him making some comment on the fraying edges of her pants or how her hair was too messy. Why did he not this time? Maybe he was wondering why she was coming up to one of the upper levels, analysts usually not having much cause to travel above their own floor. Perhaps she just didn't look a mess today. She had a bit of extra time to get ready, waking up earlier than usual due to her new kitten tearing up her curtains a whole hour before her alarm.

Or perhaps it was all a part of his game, which made Y/N even more upset. Was he that desperately cruel that he would allow her to believe she was free from his torture before attacking her again ten times worse? God, she hopes not. She was nervous enough already; the added anxiety of Harry's presence would do nothing to curb the stress frothing in her gut.

——

Turns out, Y/N had nothing to worry about. While she had stood with her knees knocking in front of the oak desk that her boss, William Garner, leant against, he had delivered her with good news rather than bad. She was getting promoted. And while the initial announcement had sent her into a celebratory spin with her heart soaring and her fingers tingling, the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realised it might not be the best news.

While it obviously meant she was doing her job well and would be moving from analyst to an associate, it would also mean she would be working on Harry's floor, and she's not sure she could stand his constant berating for the whole eight-hour work day.

It was bad enough experiencing it for the five or so minutes he would spend on the lower level, but with their offices so close to each other's, she's worried he would take full advantage. So when she's instructed to bring some of her items up into the empty office space on the associate's floor, she does so with her head down and her gaze focused on the box of knick-knacks and folders in her hands, usually stored on or in her desk downstairs.

The office is a decent size, with a plain desk in the centre and a nice window view down to the streets below. It's a vast improvement from the cramped space she had shared downstairs, with all 'offices' being a bunch of tables in their own two metres by two-metre area, with barely enough room to fit a rubbish bin beside the work surface. It also felt more private, and it worked well for someone like Y/N, who typically liked being alone.

She briefly holds hope that maybe the enclosed walls would dissuade Harry from his taunting, but her wish isn't long made before he's stepping foot inside the space, the room suddenly feeling tiny and cramped, like both he and Y/N's presences we're bursting at the seams. He takes a moment to look around, his tongue pressing against his cheek before his gaze settles on the woman in front of him, reminding Y/N of a snake about to strike. "Who'd you fuck to get this?"

Instantly Y/N opposes the notion, her mouth dropping and her eyebrows furrowing in part surprise and disgust, "what? I- no, I didn't… I wouldn't do that."

He only nods, walking over to the box sitting on the desk behind her and begins to wade through her belongings as if he owned them himself. It almost pisses Y/N off more than the jab he'd delivered on his arrival. "Didn't take you for one to sleep around to get your way to the top, but I guess you continue to surprise me." He motions to the room around him, and Y/N has to actively remind herself to stop grinding her teeth, worried they'd be reduced to stumps within the month if Harry kept his behaviour up.

She walks around to her chair, sitting down with a sigh and pulls the box away from his wandering hands, somehow managing to get out a complete sentence, something that Harry had not been privy to before. "I didn't sleep with anyone to get here."

For a moment, he looks shocked, perhaps at the fact she'd actually managed to string together a complete sentence around him- even if it was basically whispered, or maybe he really did believe she had blown Garner to get an office like this. Either way, he drops a picture frame (one of Y/N's grandmother and herself on Christmas) a little too heavily for Y/N's liking back into the box and stands up, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, "I see. Well, that's disappointing, love, because I am quite the gossip."

She picks up the frame that had just left his hands, checking the glass covering it wasn't smashed and to avoid his sharp gaze, which she's sure is pointed directly at her waiting for a reaction. When he doesn't get one, he continues, "got any secrets I can spread?" She scoffs aloud at that, struggling to contain the obvious reaction. As if he of all people would be the one she would tell her secrets to! She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. So she takes a moment to glance at him, almost physically recoiling at his expression. If she didn't know the conversation they were having, she'd think he was perfectly content, smirking with a devilish look in his ivy-stained irises.

She shakes her head. "No? What happened to all that courage you had just a second ago, pet? Seem to be at a loss for words or summat." She feels the telltale heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and looks down at her hands, picking one of the hangnails on the side of her finger.

He was enjoying this too much, his grin only growing as he realised how uncomfortable she was with his overwhelming presence, his casual lean against her desk feeling villainous and threatening. She really was just too easy. "Maybe you can stick by me. I'll show you the ropes around here and make sure you're nice and comfortable." Instantly her eyes flick up to his, the look of frustration and fear swirling dangerously inside them. For the second time in this little impromptu meeting, Y/N feels courage sweeping up her spine. "I don't want to spend any time with you." She spits.

He laughs. He actually laughs, the sound hearty and genuine. It takes everything in Y/N not to give him a right piece of her mind, but she's too scared of the repercussions, knowing full well she'd probably end up twisting her words and sounding more like an idiot than ever. So she sits quietly, trying to breathe deeply as she sees him stand up and cross his arms in her peripheral vision.

He leans even closer to her, and Y/N finds herself wanting to cower, but his alluring gaze and telltale vanilla scent leave her frozen in her place. "You wound me, sweetheart. Be careful what you wish for, love; you just might get it."

He laughs again, leaving her office. There's a certain emptiness with him gone, and it's the first time in the five minutes he'd been here that Y/N feels as if she could actually breathe. His presence was suffocating, the sentiment he'd left her with almost sounding like a threat.

Y/N doesn't even want to know what he has up his sleeve.

——

Be careful what you wish for? The more she thought about it, the more it pissed her off. Who did he think he was, the pompous bastard? He was nothing but a bully, and so to spite him, Y/N spends her weekend reciting exactly what she wished for like a mantra.

In between meals, while she's feeding her cat, while watching TV, Y/N says the same sentence repeatedly, hoping the more she does so, the more likely it would be to come true.

"I wish Harry Styles would leave me alone."

——

Y/N came into work on Monday bright-eyed, feeling residual confidence from her weekend that would inevitably fizzle out and fade with each second spent in the office. Still, she was using it to her advantage while she could. She dragged her desk closer to the wall, set up her picture frames exactly where she wanted them, and dusted the shelves and filing cabinets that had been there when she'd begun to occupy the space.

She's only interrupted by a cough behind her, and when she turns, she notices Garner and Harry standing in the doorframe. She immediately blushes, pulling the skirt that had definitely ridden up in her activities and coughs slightly. She notices Harry's eyes quickly avert their gaze to the ground when he sees her doing so (although she can’t imagine why, she doesn’t picture Harry being someone to purposefully protect her modesty like that,) before travelling back up to meet her eyes.

"Sir! What can.. uh, what can I do for you?"

While Garner was intimidating, he also had the same kind of energy as a father figure who was strict but kind when needed. For that reason, Y/N quite liked him. He was fair and well-liked, so much so that she'd heard Harry and himself were pretty close, so the sight of both of them standing in her office made her tummy begin to stir. She does her best to calm her breathing, choosing to completely ignore the more infuriating one of the pair and focus on her boss's kind eyes, now looking between herself and Harry.

"I'm aware it can be a bit intimidating starting in a new team. Harry's brought it to my attention that you'll need to be trained up anyway. So for now, I'd like you to be following him along, attending his meetings and helping him complete his work until you get the hang of things here." Immediately nerves begin to shoot through her body, but she does her best to keep her face void of emotion, only nodding along as he speaks and replying once he is finished. "Sounds good, sir."

He nods once, looking around her workspace quickly before heading towards the elevators on the other side of the building, leaving herself and Harry alone again. As usual, he's the first to speak, "I warned you, didn't I? You'd get whatever you wished for." He smirks at her, grinning at the disgust smearing across her face, "no, I- I didn't wish for this."

He feigns shock, looking behind him like he was checking the coast was clear before leaning in slightly, "what did you wish for then, hm? To see me naked?" Harry can't stop the wolfish grin that spreads across his face as a splotchy red flush spreads against Y/N's.

Y/N didn't think it was very fair. Day after day, she watched Harry waltz towards her, his insults and teasing falling easily and freely from his pink lips like he didn't even have to think twice. He'd drop each jab as if he was sprinkling flour onto Y/N's freshly washed clothes, and no matter how many times she tried to brush them off, it would only smear and leave ugly white streaks. It wasn't fair because she was left a stuttering mess each time she tried to combat his attacks. She tries to tell him she hasn't and would never think of him naked, but she can't. It's like the words are stuck to her tongue like glue; no matter how often she tries to spit them out, it only comes out in sputters, a mash of meaningless words.

She hated it, she hated him, and she wanted him to leave her office, leave her in peace and leave her alone for good.

—-

Don't get him wrong, Harry loved to prod at Y/N's exterior, but the way she deflates and looks at the desk in front of her blankly suddenly makes it seem a lot less fun. It was only exciting when he could see her flush and stutter, trying desperately to dispute whatever bullshit he was spitting her way. He didn't feel bad for her, far from, but maybe he didn't want to push her when she clearly didn't feel even up to replying (or trying to, for that matter.)

So he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning forward to catch her attention and bring her gaze back to him, "I'm only kidding, Y/N, jesus." She nods, her eyes telling him that she probably didn't find it all that funny, but he didn't really care. At least she wasn't crying on him.

"I'll send you the stuff for the meetings I have this week. Just try not to fuck it up."

At this, he exits her office and leaves Y/N, clenching her fists underneath the desk, too angry to do anything else.

——

The week had gone as well as it could have. Harry had been as friendly as Y/N believed he possibly could be, primarily by just ignoring her. He would drop reports on her desks without saying a word, not acknowledge her emails and simply did his work without bothering Y/N and well, she was relieved. She still didn't quite believe he wasn't capable of returning to his horrible tendencies, so she did her best to avoid him, dropping the work he had asked her to do on his desk when she knew he was out for lunch, sitting as far away from him during meetings as she could, keeping her head down while in her office, and embarrassingly even leaving the break room when she saw him and his little posse enter, scrambling to pick up her yoghurt cup and cookie from the table and eating the rest in her office.

Which is where she sat now, mindlessly scrolling through her phone before she's interrupted by the sound of footsteps and an overwhelming smell of flowers. She looks up to see Lucy standing in the doorway of her office, a sandwich and an apple in hand. "I've been looking all over for you! Why are you hiding in here?" She looks around the room, her face mixed with confusion and slight disgust.

While she wouldn't be Y/N's first choice outside of work, she was the only friend she'd made here. Y/N believed it was worth putting up with her obnoxious talking and sometimes questionable opinions if it meant she at least wasn't so alone, knowing full well Harry's teasing had put her on a list of people that her coworkers definitely did not want to make friends with. So, the fact that Lucy was willing to talk to her and help her out meant more than Y/N could imagine.

As stereotypical as it was, the two women had met at the photocopier, where Y/N had been attempting to copy the notes Harry had sent her when it had jammed. The machine had whirred and whined, letting out a choked sound while Y/N avoided looking up at the rest of the office, knowing full well her face would be bright red as she tried to find the latch where the paper was. It was Lucy who had come to her rescue. While Y/N was shaking with embarrassment and frustration, Lucy had run over in her four-inch heels and quickly pulled open the drawer on the side of the machine, pulling out the jammed piece of paper and closing the drawer before Y/N could even say thank you.

Maybe it was because Lucy had only started two or three weeks before Y/N had and was fairly new herself, or perhaps she just pitied the poor girl, but Y/N appreciated the help nonetheless.

"Oh, this damn machine, it's the worst! My whole first week, no one told me how easy it jammed- had to figure that out on my own." She'd turned to Y/N, scrunching the piece in one hand while holding her other hand out to Y/N, "I'm Lucy! It's nice to meet- oh, I love your shoes!" Y/N had stuttered slightly, a tad overwhelmed with her bubbly persona, but she'd quickly gotten used to her rambling and talkative nature.

"Uh, I don't know, didn't want-"

She's interrupted by Lucy herself as she sits down on the chair in front of Y/N's desk, "did you see the shirt Harry was wearing today? You could practically see his pecs with how tight it was!"

Y/N stops herself from rolling her eyes and fakes a smile. She had, in fact noticed. It was pretty hard to miss. He'd walked into the break room, his red flares catching Y/N's attention immediately and the blue and white striped shirt tight against his arms and chest, a few buttons undone at the top, leaving a peak of the swallows inked against his collarbones. God, she wishes she didn't hate him so much. She may have given herself the time to admire the gentle curve of his bum in the pants and the tuft of hair layered against his chest. She might have given herself the time to imagine licking against the wing tips of each of the birds plastered against his collarbones, and perhaps even the feel of his arms, which Y/N had never realised had any certain appeal until she'd seen the shirt rolled up around the thick muscles.

What a shame he was such a prick.

She focuses back on Lucy, nodding slightly in agreement, not even bothering to say something before Lucy begins to speak again. "I can't wait to see what he'll wear to the work drinks this weekend. Are you still planning on coming?"

Originally, Y/N had no intention of going to the event, finding the eight hours in the office surrounded by the assholes in the workplace bad enough, and imagining spending even longer with them while drunk would be an absolute nightmare. It was only Lucy who had convinced her, telling her how much fun she'd heard they were and what she was planning on wearing. To be honest, Y/N still wasn't convinced, but she thought she could go for an hour or two and come home and change into her pyjamas if it was boring.

Maybe this would be her chance to form connections with other workers and show them she wasn't just the bumbling idiot Harry reduced her to. "Uh yeah, I'll come for a bit, but-" she's interrupted by the devil himself stepping foot into her office; somehow, another shirt button had opened since she'd last seen him, revealing even more of his chest, which for some reason makes Y/N even angrier. Who did he think he was, flashing his toned chest like it was a fashion show?

“Hello ladies, planning on coming to the drinks this weekend?”

Y/N stares blankly as Lucy nods her head so hard, Y/N’s worried it may fall off, but when she looks back to Harry, his gaze is set dead on her, ignoring Lucy entirely. She’s taken back some, feeling the damned flush spoil her cheeks as per usual, “uh, I’m- we don’t-”

He interrupts her, his dimpled grin adorning his face as he lets out a chuckle, his hands sitting comfortably in his pant pockets. “Simple yes or no question, honey. Don’t tell me it’s too hard for your little brain to come up with an answer.”

She feels frustration bursting in her chest at his rude exterior, the anger spreading directly outwards, warming her arms and hands. “Yes, we’re coming.” She wants to wipe the surprised but pleased look right off his unfairly attractive face, but she doesn’t, only sits with her hands in her lap as she always did. “Well, this will be interesting! won’t believe you can let loose and have fun until I see it.” With that, he stalks out, leaving Y/N to breathe through the anger threatening to bubble over and explode from her throat and Lucy, with her mouth dropped and brows furrowed.

She turns to Y/N, her face a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, “you did not tell me Harry flirts with you? Does he act like that all the time? He’s never been like that with me!”

It’s Y/N face that skews into disbelief now, “flirts with me? Lucy, he’s awful. What are you on about?” The woman in front of her is taken aback, and if Y/N wasn’t trying desperately not to offend her, she would roll her eyes at her dramatic tendencies, particularly the gasp she lets out as her hand comes to her chest, like she’s in a period drama or summat. “Awful? You think Harry’s awful? How? He’s so dreamy!” Y/N’s about to actually roll her eyes at this, the sentiment too ridiculous for her not to, but Lucy’s following statement only leaves her confused. “I thought you guys would’ve gotten on very well.”

There isn’t a universe Y/N could conceive in which Harry and herself would get on ‘well.’ He was a right prick, someone who made every day she worked in the office miserable, all while walking around like he owned the place and all the people within it- and she guessed he did, which annoyed her even more. It was as if he had all of them under his spell, everyone basically kissing the very ground he walked on, and hanging on every accented word of bullshit he spat from his pretty mouth.

“What? Why on earth would you ever think we’d get on?” Lucy looks at her in awe, confusion clearly muddled through her perfectly plucked brows and beautifully painted lips. “Well, he got you the promotion up here. Fought mighty hard to get you here too.”

It’s as if Y/N’s whole world stops, and if she wasn’t in the situation she was in, she’d take time to notice how comically she had paused, her mouth agape and her eyes staring dumbly at Lucy. Harry got her the promotion here? Harry who never missed the opportunity to call her dumb or tell her the reports she submitted were sloppy. The same Harry who once told her she didn’t deserve this job and who told her at least once a week that not a thread on her cheap clothing was worth sitting in the building she was in. She didn’t believe it. It just wasn’t possible!

“What- how do you know that?”

Lucy looks like she’s lost interest in the conversation, the polar opposite of Y/N, who’s still stuck in the same stunned position- like a shitty street performer or something. “Garner wanted to promote Cheryl, but Harry said you’d be better. He stopped the whole meeting to convince him he was making the wrong decision.”

Y/N could not believe it. It wasn’t like he’d passively agreed she would be a good candidate for her current position. He had stopped the meeting and directly opposed what Garner had already decided. Granted, their boss hung off Harry’s every word, but still. She didn’t know which she hated more, the fact she owed this job to Harry or this unpredictable side of him. Was this part of a bigger plan Y/N wasn’t aware of? Was he going to hold this against her, or was he just not as bad as Y/N initially thought?

It was a shock, to say the least. Until now, she genuinely believed Harry thought she was hopeless, and if she didn’t know she’d clam up in front of him, she’d go to his office and ask him herself.

She wasn’t brave enough though, so instead, she followed Lucy’s lead and slowly began eating again, using the silence between them to ruminate over what she had learnt.

Her opinion of Harry hadn’t changed, but maybe her expectations of him had.

——

While Y/N’s expectations of Harry had perhaps increased, she was fully aware they may lower again, and she was just waiting for this to be the case.

Turns out she didn’t have to wait long.

She had spent hours getting ready for the work drinks, changing her pants, her shirt, and then her pants again. Each time the mirror revealed another outfit that wasn’t perfect, and Y/N’s face slowly became more disparaged with each new ensemble. She’d spent much too long trying to perfect her eyeliner, giving up after the third time. Wiping it off and reapplying it, a huff left her as she grabbed a few dry biscuits on her way out to ensure her stomach held something and wouldn’t absorb the alcohol too quickly.

Why did she care so much? Well, she really couldn’t tell you. She guesses she wanted to impress her coworkers, show them she could dress up a bit outside of work and exceed any low expectations Harry had created for her. Maybe she was just nervous and wanted to feel more confident than usual. Her attempts, however, had been dire. Sitting in the cab on the way to the bar, Y/N felt even more uncomfortable and out of her own skin than ever, the leather seats sticking to her just too hot skin, the wind flowing from the wound-down windows not nearly calming enough.

It didn’t help that Lucy hadn’t replied to Y/N’s last text either. They had briefly agreed upon a time when leaving work that evening (an hour after the drinks were supposed to start, so they could avoid any awkward niceties), and Y/N had sent her a text to confirm their agreed-upon hour as she was leaving. Yet her phone sat quietly in her bag, the comforting ding of a reply not coming through- not even when Y/N had arrived at the bar and gotten out of the car, now awkwardly waiting in front of the building.

After fifteen minutes spent battling the wind, Y/N is led to believe that Lucy wasn’t showing up any time soon, so reluctantly, she heads inside and up the stairs on her own. She shoots a brief text to the missing girl, desperately trying to keep her tone light and friendly when realistically, she wants to be anything but.

Each step towards the upstairs area allows drips of anxiety to seep into Y/N’s tummy, the final step leaving her innards in turmoil as she thinks of what she will face when she arrives.

When she opens the door, a wave of chatter and music washes over her, working to calm her none, especially as she sees her coworkers scattered around the building, some dancing and laughing, others simply talking. She instantly finds comfort within the bar, standing in front of the wooden panelled bench and ordering herself a drink, praying that Lucy would miraculously show up once she turns around. However, the lack of sound from her phone doesn’t fill her with confidence.

What was Y/N supposed to do? She couldn’t very well cling to the bar like a lifeline the whole night, but the thought of joining a group already formed didn’t sound so appealing either. Instead, she walks towards the balcony, clinging onto the metal railing, cold against her flushed skin. The vibration of her phone against the banister startles Y/N, but she rushes to reach into her bag; at this point, desperate to know if Lucy is on her way or if Y/N should call it a night and go home to warm pyjamas and her kitten.

“Sorry, babes! Got caught up, be there in 20 mins!”

And well, the sound of Y/N’s kitten and a warm pot of tea sounds more appealing as the seconds tick by. What was she supposed to do for twenty minutes by herself? She turns around, the railing digging into her back and tries to find a group she could possibly join in tiding over her loneliness. To the left, it’s a group that Y/N doesn’t recognise, so instantly, she rules them out. Right ahead, it’s a group of men, one whom she recognises as Liam, who she’d hooked up with before he had moved up to the associate’s level.

It wasn’t anything special, a sloppy blowie in one of the office’s bathrooms after hours, a blowie that led to absolutely nothing but awkward glances while working. Y/N was relieved when he had been moved up to the associate’s level a few weeks later, and to be honest, she’d almost forgotten it had occurred altogether, made easier with the way Liam would avoid her like the plague. Which he seems to be doing now, the man awkwardly glancing over in her direction before quickly averting his gaze when he realises she’s looking.

Rolling her eyes, she turns to the right, where the melodic voice and full silk outfit are a telltale sign that one of the group members is Harry, facing away from her and chatting with the group in front of him, his broad shoulders slimming down into his narrow waist accentuated by the high waisted pants he was sporting.

Y/N isn’t one to pry, and she’s about to draw her attention away from the group when the conversation they’re having catches her attention- only because her name is mentioned.

“Well, I’ll have to keep her away with a ten-foot pole!” He chuckles, taking a sip of what looks like a gin and tonic. It’s Harry’s friend, Adam, who replies. “You really think Y/N’s interested? She walks out of the room every time you enter it.” Harry laughs once again, like every word Adam said was utterly irrelevant.

Y/N would hug Adam if she could; although he wasn’t admonishing Harry for what he was saying, he was at least arguing that she wasn’t interested in him, and well, god, she wasn’t.

“She’s just nervous around me, obviously. Although I hope you’re right, it’ll be a weight off my shoulders if I don’t have to worry about her coming onto me. She’s not that ugly, but I do have standards, yeh?” It’s then Y/N notices a woman next to Harry (she thinks her name was Sarah, but she couldn’t be too sure) slap his shoulder, motioning behind him to where Y/N stood, her mouth agape and tears forming in her eyes.

Y/N couldn’t explain why her heart stopped in her chest or why it felt like she’d just swallowed acid, but it did. She can’t explain it because, for fucks sake, Harry had said worse to her face! But there was something different this time. Y/N was under the impression that Harry disliked her, but she also thought he had purposely antagonised her just to get a reaction. Thought he got off on her blundering and nervous flushes in his own sadistic way. But speaking about her in this way to his friends, when Y/N wasn’t even around to stumble her way through a defence, well, it just felt crueller. More real. More true.

He had no reason to lie, no reason to make this up.

The very thought of Y/N even finding him attractive despised Harry. And Y/N feels every bit of confidence inside of her shatter.

She feels herself well up even further as she desperately tries to say something, but all that escapes her mouth is a choked sob, the sound tearing from her chest before she gives it permission.

Quickly turning around, she drops her drink on the closest table and walks swiftly towards the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from this god-awful party with the even more awful people inside it.

——

Harry had fucked up.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t interested in Y/N, not even close, but even he wasn’t so cruel to not feel guilty after she’d heard him speaking about her as he had.

The look on her face had felt like a knife to the chest, the tears welling up in her eyes and the tremble of her chin twisting it deeper into his chest, bit by bit. She looked so heartbroken and helpless, and the second she turned around and jogged off, Harry followed her, calling out for her to stop.

Maybe she was ignoring him, or perhaps she just genuinely couldn’t hear him, but she didn’t slow down in the slightest, running all the way down the stairs and out the front with Harry on her heels. It’s only when she steps outside does she respond to his frantic yelling, spinning around and scaring him with the intensity in her eyes as she practically yells at him. “What?”

He takes a step back, shocked by the aggressive tone, which honestly Harry would’ve expected from anyone else, but not the puppy-like girl he loved to tease. He continues nonetheless, the guilt and sympathy in his eyes only working to make Y/N even angrier.

The only solace for her is that this time, it’s Harry that’s the one stuttering.

“I- Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” as Harry had so many times before, Y/N interrupts him in the middle of his pathetic attempt at an apology, the anger boiling beneath her skin, finally being released.

“How fucking dare you. I can’t believe you! Seriously, how old are you?” She pauses to run her hands through her hair, frustration overcoming her so much it feels as if it’s becoming her, the feeling overwhelming and unwelcome.

“As a grown adult, I usually have a conversation with someone if I’m that concerned about being around them.” She takes another moment to take a breath, the feeling of finally speaking her mind to him allowing a sense of relief to flood her veins, but it’s quickly replaced by anger again as she watches him struggle to find words, as she so often had around him.

“Y/N, listen, please.”

She takes a moment to realise it’s the first time he’s ever called her by her name, previously under the impression that he simply hadn’t known it, but the fact he had and purposely chose nicknames he knew would piss her off, causes her to lose her temper once more.

“No. You listen to me, Harry. You’re a prick who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone around you, particularly me. You’re rude and juvenile, and I can’t stand even being in the same room as you, let alone dating you! I wasn’t interested in you before I heard you speaking about me like a pig, and I’m certainly not interested in you now.” She watches as his face falls with each passing sentence, actively squashing the slight sense of sympathy she feels for him, before picking the strap of her bag up and placing it back on her shoulder.

“Seriously, Harry, don’t stress. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

At that, she turns around and walks away, leaving Harry standing in front of the bar. For the first time in what feels like forever, guilt wracks Harry’s body, the feeling so alien he clutches his hand to his chest and takes a deep breath.

What the fuck had he done?

——

The weekend felt grey. Heavy clouds covered the blue, leaving a dreary feeling to slink through the windows and into Y/N’s apartment. All colours felt muted and dull, even the pot plants she had dotted around the place looking droopy and sad.

She wasn’t the type to feel sorry for herself, but there was something so heartbreaking about how Friday night had panned out. She didn’t necessarily care what Harry thought about her, she knew he was a prick, and his actions the previous night had only confirmed this. She guesses it was just a knock to her confidence, the same confidence she had spent so many years building and strengthening. She was sure of who she was, but sometimes it was hard when people would pick out the weak parts of her and use them against her.

Was she really that undesirable?

Was the idea of her affection such a burden to others that the very prospect worried them? Y/N didn’t want to know, and she was trying desperately not to think of it but was failing miserably. Not even Moose, her little tabby kitten, could cheer her up. His mischievous and naughty nature made the little tike a right handful, but Y/N hardly cared at the moment, watching him tear at a loose strand of her carpet until even Moose had lost interest, choosing instead to lay on her lap, asleep.

When she arrived at the party, Lucy had messaged her, but Y/N hadn’t replied. Too caught up and tired to explain the whole situation, and perhaps a little embarrassed, particularly when Lucy had messaged her upset that the man in question wasn’t present at the work drinks as he had promised.

Y/N briefly wondered if he had gone home after their tiff, slightly surprised by the idea. She didn’t think he’d care, choosing to believe that his guilt-ridden tone was nothing but a ruse. Once again, she’s left wondering if her expectations of him were too low, but like kindling catching fire, the memory of his spiteful words roars into her mind leaving her skin burning and her eyes watering, doing nothing to put out the fiery anger broiling in her chest.

Not even Sarah, Harry’s friend, could change her view of him. On Monday, when Y/N was waiting for the kettle in the communal kitchen to boil, a presence behind her had scared her. It was Sarah, with her warm smile and soothing voice, standing with her hands cupping her elbows, the gesture clearly an attempt to calm her nerves. And Y/N’s not surprised. The last time she’d seen the woman standing in front of her was when her best friend was exclaiming very loudly about how undesirable he found Y/N.

She wasn’t sure what on earth Sarah could want with her. She didn’t know her all that well and was briefly concerned she would show the same tact as Harry and rub his teasing directly into her face. However, what Sarah says takes her by surprise.

“Hi. I just wanted to apologise for what H said on Friday night. It was horrible and so unfair. I’m sorry he did that, and if it’s worth anything, I ripped into him after you left.”

Y/N’s fully aware that the shock was written very clearly across her face, the only thing breaking her out of her reverie was Sarah herself, a small cough leaving her throat, her eyes filled with nerves as she awaited for any sort of reply.

“Uh…” but what was Y/N supposed to say? She wasn’t inclined to say it was okay because it definitely wasn’t, and she was not about to let Harry off the hook that quickly. “Yeh, it was pretty awful.” Sarah’s quick to nod in agreement, her wide eyes earnest, leaving Y/N to believe she genuinely did feel bad. “I know. It really wasn’t like him at all. He’s not nearly as bad as he seems, I promise.”

Y/N laughs now, in disbelief, uncomfortable in the current situation- with the woman in front of her clearly friendly and caring, apologising on behalf of a man who was anything but. Sarah smiles now, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand gently before crossing her own arms once again, “I know. You don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you.” She looks around as if she’s checking the coast is clear before she leans in, her voice dropping a decibel or two. “Between you and me, I think he was talking absolute shit when he said that stuff about you. In fact, I’m not even sure he had himself convinced.” Y/N’s about to ask Sarah exactly what she meant by that, but Sarah’s phone rings before she can. The woman excused herself and ran out, answering the phone with a gentle “hello?” As she leaves the room.

It left Y/N alone with her own thoughts. What was she to make of what Sarah had told her? Honestly, she didn’t believe he didn’t mean what he had said.

If Y/N was being honest, this whole interaction told her everything she needed to know about Sarah but did absolutely nothing to change her opinion of the man in question.

She hated the idea of him. She hated his voice, his disgusting way of speaking about her. She hated his stupid silk shirt and sparkly rings. She hated the way his voice wavered as he tried to apologise. She hated how his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth skewed around his lie.

Y/N hated everything about him.

Y/N fucking hated Harry fucking Styles.

——

The morning felt grey. The black clouds in the sky matched the bags under Harry’s eyes almost perfectly, and if it wasn’t for the coffee burning Harry’s hands, he’s not sure he’d even be able to stay awake. It was one of those days when Harry wanted to return to bed the second he’d gotten out of it. The only thing that had motivated him to wake up and get himself here, in front of the lift in the office, was the idea that he could come back home and slip into the silk sheets again in the evening.

He takes another sip of the coffee, the bitter brew burning his tongue, and if Harry was in a better state of mind, he might have even reacted. Instead, he stares blankly at the lift doors, waiting for them to open so he can begin his ascent.

He wasn’t one to regret his actions, and he wasn’t one to ruminate over poor decisions he’d made, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty over how the events on Friday night had unfolded. It was almost impossible to forget the broken stance Y/N had shown when he had turned around, the same stance he’s almost sure he would’ve mirrored immediately. He didn’t necessarily like the girl, but fuck, he wasn’t a monster. The same scene had replayed in Harry’s head all weekend, and if he didn’t get it to stop soon, he’d go insane.

Finally, the lift opens, and he steps inside, pressing the button to the associate’s floor and leaning against the back wall, his gaze trained solely on his Gucci loafers against the tiled floor. The sound of stilettos against that same floor catches his attention, as well as the familiar scent he often thought about, all clean linen and citrus. When he looks up at the lift doors closing in front of him, the gap showing the lobby is quickly replaced by the reflection of the same eyes he had watched well up Friday night.

He almost drops his coffee in surprise, getting a grip again when her gaze meets his and then quickly shakes it, moving instead to the floor Harry had just been looking at. Following her line of sight, he takes a moment to realise exactly what she’s wearing, red bottomed heels (surely they weren’t Louboutins,) a professional-looking black dress ending mid-calf and a beautiful black jacket to match, black fur lining the cuffs and hem. She looked… good?

Harry had never considered himself a psychic, but god, it didn’t take someone in tune with the metaphysical to feel the rage radiating off of Y/N. It was palpable, so much so that Harry’s sure if he reached out in front of him, he could feel it, perhaps even taste it on his tongue. He only realises he’s staring when he catches a look that could kill a weaker man than he, her filled eyebrows creasing in the centre of her face and her pretty lips being pulled into a snarl.

But Harry wasn’t weak, and he never claimed to be very smart either.

“Y/N, I- can we talk about what happened last week?”

Well, if Harry thought the look he had received before could kill a man, this one could kill ten. The intensity of her stare almost causes Harry to flinch, but he stands firm, his hand reaching out towards her in a calming gesture, trying desperately to plead to her rationale.

Luckily for Y/N, she’s saved by the bell; the obnoxious ding of the elevator had never sounded sweeter. She gives the man in front of her one final poisonous look before storming out of the lift.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

——

Y/N’s proud. She didn’t think she would ever even be able to string together a sentence around the prick consuming her thoughts, and now he was the one fumbling at her feet, struggling to form a coherent thought in her presence.

If she wasn’t so upset by what he had said, she might have taken the time to bask in the power she wielded, maybe even used it to her advantage. Alas, she’s too frustrated, too angry to even be near him, let alone gloat at him. Instead, she takes for silent high-fives to herself each time she successfully avoids him, a quick pat on the back when she promptly ignores his apologies and a second to bask in the glory each time she feels him give her a look filled with guilt and regret.

But her eminence is quickly overturned when Harry himself walks through her office door. He’d given up trying to apologise a few days ago, instead adopting Y/N’s tactic of avoiding every situation in which they’d need to be together, so his presence took her by surprise.

Instantly she goes to berate him, “get ou-,” but he interrupts her.

“Relax, I’m just here for work. Garner has assigned us to look at the Andrews case together.” Harry has to grit his teeth at the look of absolute disgust that crosses her face, but he couldn’t very well chastise her for something like that, could he?

“What?” She’ll never know why the world seemed to have turned against her in the last 72 hours. “Why do we both have to do it?”

Y/N watches as he obviously attempts to stop his eyes rolling back into his head. “You handled the case when you were on the analyst’s floor, and it’s been dealt to me. Doesn’t make much fuckin’ sense, so he’s asked us to do it together.”

She was a good person. She worked hard, paid her taxes, she volunteered at her local dog shelter each summer; why was the universe out to get her?

“I don’t want to do it with you.”

Harry can hardly help the fake smile that overtakes his features, his temper beginning to get the better of him. He’d fucked up, he knew that, but he was trying his damn hardest to be professional, and her teenager pity party really wasn’t helping the situation.

“Great. Should you go tell Garner that, or shall I?”

He had won. He knew he had, her shoulders slumping and lips tightening over her teeth. She may not have been happy about it, but she realised he was right- they didn’t really have a choice.

Harry sits down on the chair in front of her desk that she pushes outwards with her foot, motioning with her hand for him to take a seat in a way so blasé it only works to bring Harry’s temper up further.

It seemed Garner was the one that had fucked up this time- how they were supposed to work together on the project without killing each other, Harry didn’t know.

——

Y/N didn’t think her day could get any worse.

She’d been in a rush to get to work this morning, eating a tub of yoghurt with so much honey she had failed to realise it was very much out of date. While rushing out the door, she had pushed her favourite little pot right off her shelf, causing it to shatter into a hundred pieces on the floor- surrounded by the plant’s guts and dirt. The rush to pick up the sharp pottery so her kitten wouldn’t hurt himself on them and sweep up the dirt had left her to be late for work- rushing up the stairs and into the elevator with beads of sweat rolling down her back.

And what was to meet her when she finally got into her office, but Harry himself, sitting in her chair.

“You’re late.”

Y/N wishes she could say she handled this taunt with grace, but her shitty morning mixed with her growing comfortability around him, meant she definitely didn’t. “Fuck off and get out of my chair.”

While Harry loved the way Y/N stuttered and stumbled around him, he almost loved it more now that she griped back at him. He wasn’t sure if the cruelty of his actions had led her so far past the edge that she didn’t care anymore or if spending time with him on the Andrews case had allowed a certain familiarity to form between them. Whatever it was, he loved that now when he teased her, she would come up with her own jab at him, asking if he’d looked at himself in the reflection of his overly priced and overly shined shoes when he’d asked what was wrong with her hair on Wednesday after she had unfortunately gotten stuck in the wind.

He loved it even more, when she didn’t even bother to come up with a witty comeback, hissing a “fuck off” at him with a face that could startle a bear and so much venom in her voice that sometimes it even surprised him.

“Well, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the crypt this morning!” He says as he stands up, walking around her desk and leaning against the side of it, forcing her to turn and face him directly to fit herself between him and the wall to get to her chair.

As she passes him, she takes a moment to look him up and down, noting the white boots, lime green pants and blue wool jumper. “Is your stylist a small, untalented five-year-old girl or?”

Harry can’t help the cackle that leaves him, watching the small smile fill her face that she tries to conceal as she places her handbag on the desk and takes a seat, turning on the computer without looking at him as he replies.

“Uh, his name is Harry Lambert. He’s a genius actually- styles for Milan and everything.” Y/N didn’t care if she was being honest, the subtle flex not impressive in the slightest when looking at this outfit. However, what does surprise her is that he actually has a stylist, but well, of course, he fucking does.

“You actually have a stylist?”

Harry nods, “Yes. How else would you explain my model-worthy looks?” For the first time, Y/N cracks a genuine smile, thinking of all the awful things she could say to him. In the end, she says, “do you really want me to answer that?”

Ignoring her, Harry walks around her office, flicking one of the fake plants on the corner of her desk, screwing up his nose.

“Did you come into my office for a specific reason, or did you just want to annoy me?”

He turns to face her completely, waving the file in his hand towards her as if it was a trophy, “ah, yes. Although I do enjoy the latter, I came in to let you know I set up that meeting with Andrews tomorrow to present our recommendations.”

Y/N feels apprehension drip down her spine and into her stomach. Her first meeting was always going to be a source of anxiety, but doing one with Harry seemed to make it worse. Unfortunately for her, Harry catches the look of uneasiness that crosses her face, briefly wondering if he should take it easy on her. He decides not to. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared. I would say you have nothing to be nervous about, but, well…” he motions to her with his hand, a look of dismay on his face.

If he was being perfectly honest, Y/N had actually been pretty easy to work with, a bit nervous and confused, but that was to be expected- it was her first few weeks in the new position, after all. But she was intelligent and asked the right questions, taking the initiative to complete tasks Harry himself hadn’t even thought of yet. All of her reports were labelled and printed on lined paper, not a dot point out of place or a spelling mistake in sight. He didn’t know if she’d done it purposefully or not, but he could even smell a distinct perfume on each sheet as if she’d sprayed each one individually.

Harry would never say anything like this to her, though, choosing instead to nitpick her work until she rolled her eyes or snapped at him or he would just blatantly ignore her- it depended on his mood.

——

Y/N could feel anxiety rising in her chest, the feeling swelling and ballooning in her throat, causing each breath to be laboured and heavy.

She forces herself to take them anyway as she sits on the floor of her office with her legs crossed and her hands resting on each knee. Slowly, Y/N forces herself to calm her breathing in an attempt to ground herself. Rather than focusing on the suffocating feeling within her lungs, she paid attention to her body, the way she was sitting, the way the cheap carpet scratched against her legs, bare thanks to the tight skirt that had rolled up in her position. Taking a moment, she notices how her hair is brushing against her back, how her clothes feel resting against her skin, and how the weight of each of her limbs presses her further into the ground.

Counting each breath that enters her body and each that leaves her, Y/N feels her muscles relaxing, a sense of zen replacing the stifling worry that had previously occupied the space.

Her first meeting with Harry was only twenty minutes away, and while Y/N knew she could do it, it didn’t stop the pressure from getting to her. Scenarios of her fucking up kept playing on repeat until she forced herself to leave the break room in a flurry, cutting Harry off as he broke down the brief she had already read ten times through.

While meditating had allowed her mind to float outside of her body for a moment, the sound of her office door opening sends it straight back into place, her eyes flying open while she scrambles to stand- not prepared for Harry to ask why she was sitting on the floor of her office like a petulant child. But it’s not Harry that enters, but rather Lucy, the smell of flowers and cheap lipstick following her.

She doesn’t even ask any questions, which Y/N silently thanks her for. Instead holds out her hand for Y/N and helps her up, brushing an invisible bit of lint from her shoulder as she does so. Lucy’s stare begins to become uncomfortable, her green eyes piercing as they wait for Y/N to say something, anything really.

“Lucy, I- sorry.”

Lucy’s perfectly manicured eyebrows twist in confusion for a moment, “for what? Think you scared Harry more than anyone else.”

Y/N nods her head, imagining how it had looked from his perspective, “the meeting. I just, I’m not sure I can do it.” Shockingly, the red-headed woman in front of her only scoffs, “Jesus Y/N. I know you’re scared, but if anyone can do it, it’s you. We all know you deserved that promotion more than anyone. I know it, Garner knows it, and even Harry does. He wanted you up here for a reason, girl, and honestly, I think you surprised everyone.”

Y/N feels herself smiling and shaking her head in confusion, “surprised you?” Lucy nods solemnly, “how?”

She looks up, pondering her next words carefully. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the most we’d heard from you was the shy and flustered muttering you’d say to Harry occasionally. The fact you came up here, more than capable, smart and confident, shocked everyone. You’re damn good at this job, Y/N. You should’ve been promoted long before half of us.”

Y/N didn’t know this was how the others felt about her. While she wasn’t too impressed that people actually had seen her as Harry had tried to portray her, the fact that she had proven herself worthy of a position here made her ego inflate, a sense of elation filling her chest. This was the nicest Lucy had ever been to her and the longest she’d spent talking about anyone but herself, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Okay, I think I just need to relax. I can do it.” Lucy nods along, “if it makes you feel any better, I accidentally asked the client if he’d give me sex rather than ‘a sec’ in my first meeting. I’m still here, and while it was embarrassing, I got through it!”

Y/N bursts out laughing, the idea of a bright red Lucy standing in front of a board of powerful people asking for sex relieving the tension she feels some.

“Thank you, Lucy, really. I appreciate it.”

She brushes it off, shaking her head, “you’ve got this girl. Now go find Harry before he has a conniption.”

Y/N nods, pulling her skirt down and leaving the office, a renewed sense of confidence and serenity filling her.

But who was to walk around the corner when Y/N was feeling the first shred of confidence she’d experienced in the year she’d worked here but Harry himself. Only it’s not his presence that surprises her most. No, it’s the instant burning feeling against her chest as his steaming cup of coffee is spilt down the front of her shirt, her freshly pressed, cream fucking shirt.

Y/N stifles the pained yelp that threatens to leave her, only leaning forward and pulling the burning cloth away from her no doubt red skin, looking up to see Harry in shock before her, looking at the mess he’d made from his clumsiness. The surprise on his face was replaced by relief for a second, “Y/N!”

Still in shock and now in pain, she doesn’t acknowledge him, “fuckin’ hell.” She groans, rushing towards the women’s bathrooms next to the elevators.

She hears Harry following behind her, so close she almost turns around and scolds him for not giving her space when she clearly needed it.

“Are you okay?”

She feels as if he’s not just referring to the potential burn she was currently feeling the effects of. When he doesn’t receive a reply, he follows her straight into the bathroom, ignoring the startled yelp and dirty look Martha, whose office sat across from Y/N’s, gave him.

Y/N heads straight for the paper towels on the wall, running some under cold water and rubbing at the substantial brown stain covering the front of her chest. As she does so, she watches Harry’s face in the mirror, still reflecting his own shock and, if she didn’t know any better, guilt. She jumps when he interrupts her, “no, no! Dab, don’t rub. This is silk. It’ll never come out like that!”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, just gives him a quizzical look as she changes her strategy, dabbing gently at the stain rather than rubbing it. She was awfully confused. While she and Harry had been getting along better, he also isn’t the type to care so much about anything regarding her. In fact, she’s almost surprised he didn’t laugh in her face at the first drop that had left his mug. But looking at him now with his face in his hands, she’s left bewildered. “What’s wrong? It’s just a stain.”

Harry looks at her as if she’s insane, his hands held out in front of him, his eyebrows screwed up in disbelief, and his pretty pink lips gaping apart like a fish. “The meeting Y/N! The fucking meeting!” He begins to pace, and Y/N realises her mistake. He wasn’t concerned for her well-being or even the well-being of the overpriced silk button-up she was wearing. No, he was only concerned with himself and the meeting they were supposed to present in less than fifteen minutes. Of fucking course.

“Uh, okay. I’ll… I’ll run home and grab a different shirt while you start the meeting without me.”

He interrupts her as she finishes her sentence, “no!” She looks at him quizzically once again, waiting for some sort of explanation or a better idea from him. “I can’t do it without you.” Y/N watched as a light pink blush swept across his cheekbones, his gaze averted as his following words came out softer, “besides, we don’t have time. You’d never make it back before I finished the meeting.”

Y/N feels her gaze soften slightly at that because, god, she never thought that the Harry Styles would be telling her he couldn’t complete a meeting without her, but here she was, in all her coffee-stained glory. “I might have a shirt or something in my car that you can use.”

Well, he did have a shirt, a whole range of shirts, actually. From women’s blouses to men’s graphic tees, he seemed to have a sort of wardrobe in his back seat, the organised chaos a stark difference from what Y/N can see as a sparkling front seat. She didn’t want to know how or why he had some of the items he did. Still, none seemed to work, all a bit too small or casual for their business meeting, until Y/N is ushering Harry to stop looking, whining that they only had “five minutes left,” while the bottom half of him hung out the side of the back door, and the front half frantically searched for something that could work.

“Aha! This is the one I was looking for.” He pulls out a linen shirt, similar to the one she was previously wearing in cut and style, only this was white. It was slightly crinkled, a symptom of being smushed in the backseat of his car, she imagines, but he was right- it might just work. There’s an awkward pause as Harry waits for her to try it on, and Y/N waits for him to turn around, covered enough from prying eyes in the corner of the car park and behind his door but completely exposed to his gaze. She looks at him expectantly, watching as the realisation crosses his face, and for the first time ever, Y/N believes she’s caught him off guard, an embarrassed red hue flushing his cheeks.

As he turns to face the other way, Y/N unbuttons the spoiled shirt and replaces it with Harry’s, his cologne still weaved in the fabric as she tosses it over both shoulders and does the buttons up before trying to look in the reflection of his shiny black sedan to see if it looked presentable.

To be honest, it was a little tight on her breasts, just toeing the line of inappropriate for a corporate workplace, but it would have to do. The only other option was her now coffee-coloured dress shirt or Harry’s ‘I’d love to fellate George Harrison’ tee, which she’s sure HR would be really interested in hearing about if she chose to wear into a meeting that could potentially bring the company millions.

“Y’done?”

Y/N sighs, trying to tame some of the flyaways that had escaped in their flurry as she replies, “yeah.”

He turns instantly, his gaze immediately dropping to her breasts straining against the fabric, “jesus Y/N.”

She takes a moment to look at him with admonishment, “it’s the best we can do. Let’s hope the board aren’t a bunch of fucking lechers like you.”

He followed behind her, skipping slightly to keep up with her fast pace, set due to the time crunch they were currently under. “I am not a lecher! I didn’t mean it. They were just fuckin’ there! Why would I be staring at your tits anyway?” He exclaims, putting emphasis on the ‘your.’ Y/N promptly ignores the slight jab, entering the lift and turning around to face the front, pulling at the shirt away from her still sticky chest without much thought, unsure if she’s trying to lessen the amount of cleavage visible or keep the clean shirt away from her coffee-stained skin.

He enters behind her watching her movements for a second, his brows furrowed and his mouth set in a frown, before reaching forward, surprising Y/N when he grabs her wrists lightly and puts them down by her side. The touch is so gentle and considerate that she has to check it was him that was still holding her wrists, “it looks fine, Y/N. I’m just bein’ a prick.”

She looks him in the eyes, the most genuine and earnest she’d ever seen them, taking a moment to notice the darker green ring surrounding his iris and nods slowly. Harry wasn’t usually so kind to her.

They are so close to each and Y/N can’t quite place whether it was her or Harry who had moved to make it so. For a moment, they just stand there staring at each other, Y/N suddenly becoming hyper-aware of the tightness of his hands around her wrists and the way a flush is creeping up the smooth skin of Harry’s cheek. Y/N is struck by how pretty Harry really was, his top lip forming the perfect arch of his cupids bow, the tiny mole in the corner of his mouth, the gentle flop of his hair and his striking but gentle eyes, flicking between her own and to Y/N’s surprise her lips- so quickly she almost misses it.

The air feels thicker, and as Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, Y/N feels the space become stifling and uncomfortable.

This is Harry. She’s not supposed to feel a tightening in her tummy at the way the artificial light of the elevator makes his pink lips glisten, or the way his hands are beginning to feel sweaty due to how tightly they’re wound around her wrists.

She steps back slightly, breaking the intense stare they were sharing, and Harry does the same, dropping her hands, coughing lightly and turning awkwardly back to the lift doors waiting for them to open.

Y/N actively avoids his gaze in the mirrored walls of the lift, only moving when the doors slide open. The energy in the confined space seemed to have momentarily slowed time, but the second she left, the urgency of their situation rolled over her in full force.

Without a word, they both go to their offices, grab the files they need and meet back in front of the meeting room door.

He looks down at her, the same gentle look in his eyes that was present in the elevator, the gentle slope of his nose and crinkles surrounding his eyes leaving her bewildered, not yet used to the tender gaze.

“You ready?”

With a silent nod from her, he opens the door, motioning with his ring-clad hand for her to enter, following close enough behind her that she can feel the lapels of his jacket brushing her arm.

And suddenly, she finds herself in a room full of people, all holding the fate of her job in their hands- her only salvation, the painfully arrogant man standing behind her.

——

The meeting had gone well. So well, in fact, that Y/N could hardly believe it herself. Everything still felt a little surreal. The way Harry had acted in the meeting was inconceivable, treating her as a partner. An equal.

He’d not once spoken over her or corrected her but instead would ask her for confirmation on their recommendations or her own findings on specific stocks. He even chuckled at all her (probably miserable) attempts at lighthearted humour, inciting rumbling laughter from the much older and much more experienced board sitting in front of them.

Even the way Garner had entered her office with a smile bigger than she’d ever seen from him plastered on his face, and a new project for her to jump onto immediately felt unbelievable.

Y/N would carry this weightlessness with her all the way to two weeks later, where she just happened to be sitting at her desk, the office the type of quiet you could only find when everyone had gone home while the blaring ten o’clock from her phone was mocking her for her foolishness. She hadn’t meant to stay this late; she really hadn’t. But god, she didn’t want to let Garner down after her first presentation with Harry had gone so well. And if she was being perfectly honest, this case was much more complex than the one she had just completed, only made more challenging without the albeit annoying but ultimately experienced and helpful eye of Harry watching over each decision she made.

She felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end here. Was everyone expected to do one assisted case and then given another to do all by themselves?

One that could potentially cost the company millions?

Y/N was stressed. She’d long passed the point of caring, leaving her uncomfortable heels in front of her desk and letting her hair out of the way too-tight ponytail it had been occupying during the day, rubbing her eyes out of frustration.

She could tell Garner how much she was struggling, but she didn’t very well want to do that. It was hard enough being the newbie on the office floor, let alone the newbie that complains the second something becomes slightly complicated.

No. Y/N could do this. She knew she could. She just had to dig deep and perhaps get another cup of coffee to get her through.

What she doesn’t expect when walking towards the kettle is the very man that had been occupying her thoughts since the meeting had ended to walk right around the corner.

Harry looked as if he could be walking into the workplace at 8am on a Monday morning, his skin glowing, hair perfectly coiffed, and his clothes looking freshly pressed, a stark contrast to what Y/N imagines she looks like with her crinkled skirt, bare feet and messy hair.

“Harry? What on earth are you doing here this late?”

He looks as surprised as she probably did, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tilts his chin, looking behind her as if the reason she was also here at such a time was hidden behind her.

“Could ask the same of you. Garner finally getting you to pay him back for that promotion?” She can’t help but roll her eyes at the statement, one she now would usually cop on the chin and reply with something like, “no, he said he was too worn out from his go with you,” but she was too tired. Instead, she lets out a humourless chuckle and continues her journey to the kettle, hoping that a fresh mug would give her the energy she needs to deal with the asshole now behind her.

“What, not in the mood to play with me tonight, hm?”

At this, she turns around, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the hot beverage she’d just poured herself, “unfortunately not.” It’s then something clicks in her mind, and Harry watches as her eyes widen and she stands a little straighter. “Actually, I heard that maybe it shouldn’t be Garner that I should be thanking for my promotion.”

It takes Harry a second to catch on, his mind whirring through possibilities of what she could be talking about before he realises, and then a teasing look comes across him, and Y/N knows whatever he has to say next, she probably won’t like.

“Wait, are you offering me a blowie?” He says with faux shock, his eyes glinting with a playful look as pure shock (and annoyance) flits across Y/N’s face.

“In your dreams, asshole.” Harry can’t contain the smirk that fills half his face.

“How’d you know?”

Y/N tries desperately to stop the flush that overcomes her but knows she fails when Harry only looks at her gloatingly. This new relationship she and Harry were walking into was dangerous territory- one full of flirty advances and looks that Y/N doesn’t know if she has the strength to decipher.

It was like something had shifted in the elevator. Harry hardly ever made fun of her anymore, and if he did, it felt like he was inviting her to laugh with him rather than laughing at her. Each poke and prod followed by a look that for some inexplicable reason leaves Y/N blushing.

She chooses instead to ignore his jabs, and walk back to her office, sure there was plenty more she could do with her time than entertain his playful taunting.

The quick pad of his footsteps behind her tells Y/N her plan may not work out.

As she sits at her desk and focuses her attention back on her computer, she feels the overwhelming gaze of Harry, standing in the doorway and his low voice interrupts her once more. “What are you actually doing here this late? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, saving stray kittens or summat?” Y/N actually laughs at this, and Harry has to stop his own flush from spreading to his cheeks.

“I should be, yes. But I’m stuck trying to figure out the Davis case. It’s all a bit up in the air, and Garner wants it done by Monday.”

Harry frowns, “so why are you here at ten pm?”

Y/N scowls slightly like it should be obvious, “I can’t figure it out.” He nods, “well, lemme have a look,” as if it wasn’t a big deal. Like by doing that, he wasn’t putting himself out, doing extra work that wasn’t his at ten pm on a Tuesday.

She’s quick to refuse his help, not doing much as he gently pushes her chair away from the desk and occupies the space for himself, “no, Harry, you don’t have to do that! Really, I can figure it out.”

Y/N fights away the feeling of déjà-vu as she’s taken aback by his proximity when he turns slightly, so close his breath tickles her lips as his eyes flicker down to look at them, “it’s fine, Y/N,” he rolls his eyes.

Perhaps if she wasn’t so stunned by his actions, she’d have the strength to refuse again. Instead, she merely nods, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. What on earth had gotten into her? Two times in one month, she’d thought about kissing him, and two times in one month, she’d actually wanted to.

Y/N could smell Harry’s cologne as he typed away at the computer in front of her, each movement of his deft fingers sending another gust in her direction. Y/N feels her stomach tighten as he gently pulls at his lip as he reads the text infront of him, his eyes darting back and forth. The only thing that draws her attention away from his lips is the text notification from her phone.

She forced herself to pull away from him, hoping whoever had texted her might pull her back into reality and knock some sense into her spinning head. However, the text she receives only works to confuse her further when she notices it’s from Liam.

Why in the ever living fuck would Liam be texting her? He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d sucked him off in the office bathroom, their last interaction consisting of him giving her some paper towel to wipe the cum off her fingers, and now he was messaging her? He’d ignored her for months. What was she supposed to do with the ‘hey! I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink sometime?’ she’d just received.

It’s then Harry notices the girl beside him, frozen and looking at her phone, puzzled. He directs his attention toward her, leaving the computer in favour of whatever seems to be capturing her attention.

“What’s wrong?”

How could Y/N explain this? Liam had asked her not to tell anyone what had happened, and she’d respected his wishes, but now she was just confused. Not just confused, Y/N was angry. He really thought he could treat her like dirt and then waltz back into her life, asking her out once the boss looked at her favourably? Fuck no. Why was she doing him any favours in the first place?

“Uh, it’s Liam.”

Harry pauses, taking a second to process what she’d said. “Liam? As in Liam Payne? You mean the wanker with the middle part and leather jacket, Liam Payne?”

She can’t help but giggle, and Harry revels in the way the furrow in her forehead softens slightly. Nodding, Y/N confirms Harry’s suspicions and leaves him desperately wanting to know why a prick like Liam even had the chance to text her. Why did someone like that have her number when even he didn’t?

“What’s he doing texting you? ‘Specially at this time of night. Don’t tell me you’re fucking him!”

Y/N screws up her nose and shakes her head a little too quickly for Harry to believe he’s entirely off the mark, and he tries desperately hard to keep the judgement off his face. It wasn’t like Liam was entirely insufferable, just known for fucking girls around and being particularly lazy at work.

And well, Harry didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on there, but at least no one could ever call him lazy.

He waits for Y/N to speak again, can practically see the gears turning in her head as she thinks of what to tell him. “We didn’t have sex.” She glances up quickly to gauge his reaction, only being met with the indifferent look he usually sported, so she continues, “I just- we um. I sucked him off in the bathroom.”

The last part is said quickly and so quietly that Harry has to pause for a moment to process whether he’d actually heard her correctly.

He couldn’t believe it. This little innocent puppy in front of him was actually something of a minx. Y/N must see the look on his face because she quickly tries to backtrack, stuttering even more than she usually did. “No, it wasn’t like that! It literally- well, it only happened once, and we haven’t spoken since. He hasn’t said another word to me!”

Harry’s brows furrow at this, a new, unfamiliar feeling leaking into the bottom of his spine. “He didn’t speak to you again afterwards?” Shaking her head, Y/N looks away, desperately trying to avoid any gaze Harry tries to initiate. “Well, it was just casual. I didn’t expect him to court me with flowers or anything!”

There was something sort of sad about the way Y/N was speaking, as if she’d tried so hard to convince herself of this that she believed she was talking sense to him now. “Y/N, sweetheart. It’s not about flowers and all that, the least he could do was fuckin’ speak to you after. Especially after making such a pretty girl get on her knees in the bloody office bathroom, no less. Why would anyone go out of their way to ignore you after that?”

And well, Y/N doesn’t know. It was true. She really hadn’t been expecting much from him. But Harry was right; she was at least hoping he’d acknowledge her existence when walking into the office kitchen and not run out like a startled rat.

Harry doesn’t know why exactly, but he can’t stand the way her face drops, and he quickly jumps to stand in front of her, grabbing her soft hands in his own. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Forget about him, yeh? He’s not even worth your time.”

What Harry really wanted to say was god, she could do a million times better than fuck face Payne. He wanted to tell her she deserved to be courted, to be surprised with flowers and to be asked about her day. But he didn’t know how and it wasn’t exactly his place to tell her this; they’d only just gotten onto friendly terms.

Harry couldn’t pinpoint why this sudden possessiveness over Y/N had come up. All he knows is he didn’t want her anywhere near Liam, couldn’t bear the idea of them together. And don’t get him wrong, he knows Y/N was a grown woman that could make her own decisions, so why did the idea of Liam’s prick in her mouth send a pang to his chest?

Looking at her now, Y/N is giving him that same puppy-eyed look she used to give him when he would make fun of her at her desk, and he briefly wonders how he ever saw her looking at him like that and didn’t instantly get on his knees apologising. It was so full of sadness, lacking the usual life and verve he’d gotten used to in her gaze during the past couple of weeks.

Without thinking, Harry rubs his thumb along her bottom lip, “enough of that. Stop your poutin’.” Out of instinct, Y/N pulls back, Harry’s hand dropping from her face, and she cringes as she watches the wounded look that crosses his face.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He only nods, looking away and pulling back from her slightly to face the computer once again, but Y/N doesn’t want that. No, right now, Y/N wants him back close to her, she already missed the soft press of his thumb and the gentle puff of air each time he would exhale, blowing against her cheek. She couldn’t explain it, this want, this need. It was so pent up inside her like it had always been there, and she’d finally acknowledged and given it a reason to be let out, the two seconds without his contact suddenly becoming unbearable.

So she grabs his hand and places it back on her cheek. His rings are cool against the flushed (and no doubt red) skin, but it feels good. A sense of relief and respite from the heat pumping through her veins and into her face, so she nuzzles gently into his palm, holding the smooth skin of his wrist. His eyes soften as he watches her.

“Oh puppy, look at you gettin’ all soft on me.”

Harry feels her jaw bob slightly as she swallows, the movement drawing his attention down from her eyes to her mouth, and it’s only when she speaks does his gaze meet hers again. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to pull back, just not quite used to this… uh friendliness, yet.”

He only nods, this time in understanding, watching as her own line of sight dances between his pretty eyes and his even prettier lips. “What are you lookin’ at my lips for, hm?” The blush that sports her cheeks is instant and Harry can’t help but chuckle as her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- “

“Oi, what’d I say? Stop with the pouting. I’m only teasing.” Harry interrupts, pulling at her pillowy bottom lip that had somehow become wedged between her teeth again. “If I didn’t know any better, Y/N, I’d think you were looking at my lips because you wanted to kiss me.”

If Harry was being honest, he expected her to scoff and shake her head like she usually did when he teases her like this. But instead, he watches as her eyebrows scrunch up slightly as if she was just as confused by it, her gaze meek as she nods, looking down longingly at his lips once more. Harry has to stop himself from moaning, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at her uncharacteristic confidence.

“Y’want to kiss me?” It comes out whispered and breathy unintentionally, originally meaning to sound blasé and unperturbed.

Y/N hardly has to nod again before he pushes his mouth against hers. He pulls back, gently brushing his lips against hers, giving her time to protest, time to tell him this is the opposite of what she wanted. Instead, he feels as she pushes back against him with as much fervour as he had, moulding her soft lips against his own slightly chapped ones.

The whine Harry lets out is nothing short of embarrassing. He just couldn’t explain it. Kissing had never felt like this before, like her lips fit perfectly in the slot between his own. As if his whole life, he’d been waiting for her mouth to fill the spot so many others couldn’t.

It just felt right.

They continue kissing, their tongues brushing against each other’s, tasting of coffee and frustration and missed opportunities.

This whole time he was teasing her; this is what he was missing? If Harry could travel back in time, he would. He’d go back to the first day they met when she’d walked into the work elevator and promptly dropped her iced tea on his new white vans. He’d take back the dirty look he’d given her as she tried to apologise. He’d tell her it was okay, not ask her if she was ‘fucking kidding’ and telling her to leave him alone as he went to the bathroom to try to wash the sticky liquid out of the canvas. He’d do it all differently.

Maybe Harry could’ve avoided a lot of unenthusiastic one-night stands and unneeded frustration. Maybe Harry would have jumped to this part a lot quicker. Just maybe.

Y/N pushes Harry back slightly, giving herself more room to join him in kneeling on the ground, but it just wouldn’t do. Harry needed to have her as close as possible to him, and sitting next to him wasn’t nearly close enough. He pulls away from her mouth and stands up, scoffing and sending her his signature smirk when she instantly kneels up, trying to undo his belt. “Jesus Christ, you little minx, you’re trying to get your mouth on me already?”

She laughs, but he doesn’t miss how a blush spreads across her face, a clear sign of embarrassment. Pulling her up to meet him, he kisses her again, taking his time to feel her pulse against his palm as he cups her neck gently before turning around and sitting in the chair she was previously occupying, pulling her to straddle him. “There’ll be plenty of time for that, trust me. Just wanna kiss you right now.”

She nods against him, slipping her tongue against his before lightly nibbling at his lip between hers, soothing the slight sting with a soft brush of her tongue. She understood. She just wanted to be close to him, to feel all of him right away. But she knew that wasn’t smart. She was confused by the way she was feeling, and having sex with him at the same desk he’d teased her relentlessly at probably wouldn’t clear much up for her.

He just tasted so good; each touch of his mouth to hers sent little zaps through her, straight to her inner thighs. He was addicting in every sense of the word, and she could finally admit to herself that the second he’d kissed her, there would be no stopping herself. Y/N felt out of control, and while she knows hooking up with Harry here probably wasn’t the brightest idea, she really struggles to find it in herself to care right now.

Instead, she leans between them and palms gently at the growing bulge in Harry’s slacks, rolling her eyes and moaning as she feels him hardening underneath her palm, “god, you really are a minx. Just can’t help yourself, can you?”

He grabs both of her wrists in one of his hands (Y/N swallows at that image because fucking hell, how big were his hands to fit around both of her wrists), and she lets him hold them against her chest. Using his other hand, he plays with the button on her pants, wasting enough time that Y/N begins to buck up underneath him, silently begging him to do something, literally fucking anything.

He looks up at her, and she feels like she’s about to be scolded, so she stops the movements of her hips.

“Good girl,” he mutters and Y/N pants like a dog.

Undoing the buttons, Harry helps Y/N lift her hips until he can slide her pants off onto the floor, pulling her back down onto his lap. She jolts lightly as she feels his erection against her soaking pussy, even through his pants and her underwear.

Continuing to play with her, Harry snaps the elastics of her underwear against her tummy; he smirks at the little whines she lets out each time he does it. He could already tell Y/N was gonna be vocal, and he couldn’t wait to pull as many sounds out of her pretty mouth as he could.

“Please- Harry, touch m-” She’s cut off by him harshly pressing at her clit through the cloth covering her, and she lets out a moan, her toes curling at the pressure.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She rolls her eyes, and for some reason, Harry doesn’t think it’s because of his fingers. He decides to humour her anyway, pulling back and slipping his fingers into her underwear before she can complain about the sudden stopping of his movements and presses a finger into her.

He groans as he feels her folds, already silky and wet, and he’d hardly even touched her. His middle finger meets absolutely no resistance, although he feels her walls tighten around him at the intrusion. She instantly bucks towards him as he begins to thrust in and out, the pleasure almost too much and yet not enough, so he slips another finger into her sopping cunt, her wetness dripping down his digits and making the silver of his rings slippery.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure his fingers were giving her, Y/N tries to grip her hand against Harry’s shoulder to ground herself. Unfortunately for both Harry and herself, her fervour to do so means she isn’t all that careful in getting her hand there and instead accidentally knocks his chin on her way past.

The laugh that leaves her is comical as she watches his face drawn with concentration, instantly fill with shock as he looks up at her, curious to see if she did it on purpose. Y/N swallows at the look that simpers across his features and finds herself letting out a deep moan at the sudden harsh and deep strokes Harry’s fingers take on, almost as if he was punishing her for laughing, a smug grin filling half his face.

Y/N couldn’t believe how stretched out she felt from just two digits. She never would have described his fingers as thick, but feeling them inside her now, stretching her open, she began to wonder how his cock would ever fit inside her.

While Y/N’s moan reverberates in the air in front of them, Harry’s eyes don’t dare leave her own, watching as hers crease in pleasure while holding the challenging gaze. When Harry looks down to watch his hand moving beneath her underwear, Y/N grabs onto his chin, pulling his gaze back to her, almost as if it was out of instinct. The small intake of air he takes in shock would usually make Y/N giggle if she wasn’t so focused on getting his gaze back to hers.

It’s dominant in how she grips his strong jaw, so tight her thumb slightly indents into his cheek and so completely unlike her. Usually, she preferred to take on a more submissive role, particularly in the bedroom- but the way Harry is pliantly moving his head, whichever way her hand directs him to, sends a shiver up her spine. Slowly, and while still maintaining her grip, she brings her forefinger to gently trace his spit-slicked lips, the cupid’s bow slightly swollen from Y/N’s teeth nipping at it while they were kissing.

She’d never thought of herself as dominant, but when Harry obediently opens his mouth, Y/N feels a rush between her legs, noticeably wetter at the sight of the man usually so cocky and smug, docile at her touch, like putty in her hands as he waits with his mouth agape, his tongue pushed out and his eyes fluttering in pleasure. Gently she traces the tip of her pointer finger over his tongue, watching as he jolts at the tickling feeling before slipping her finger into his mouth completely. She can’t control the whimper that leaves her as he closes his lips around her, sucking gently at the digit and nibbling at the sensitive pad of her finger.

It’s erotic and filthy to watch his arm move beneath her skirt while her index finger gently ruts back and forth into his mouth, Harry accommodating to the intrusion, licking and sucking it as if it were a cock.

She watches as Harry’s eyes flutter, rolling backwards as she slots her middle finger in his mouth too, no doubt the fluttering of her hole at the erotic scene in front of her making him even weaker.

Y/N can hardly believe it when she pulls her hand back, hooking her thumb onto his lower jaw to keep it open, and Harry obediently follows her lead, unsure what she wanted to do but sticking his tongue out dutifully like his body could read her intentions even while his mind couldn’t.

She leans forward and watches as the realisation clicks in his eyes as she purses her lips and spits lightly into his mouth, the saliva sliding to the back of his mouth and disappearing as he swallows, a broken moan leaving him.

And with that, it’s like something snapped.

Harry’s standing up, her precarious position on his lap meaning she was pushed backwards as he did so, her spine landing roughly on the desk behind her. Y/N can hardly bring herself to care as he begins sliding his large hands up her thighs, pushing the material of her shirt further upwards and out of his way while leaning over her, rubbing his lips gently across her stomach.

He glances at her briefly before standing back up straight, the submission he was sporting long gone as he sees the wet patch on the front of her underwear, a smug grin sliding onto his pretty mouth to replace it.

At the first touch of his thumb against her cotton-covered clit again, Y/N hisses, the contact not nearly hard enough to give her any pleasure but enough that she felt his presence there, slowly rubbing over the soaked material.

“Messy, messy girl. What are we goin’ to do with you, huh?” Y/N whines, meeting his gaze again, and Harry almost drops down to his knees then and there at the pleading look in her eyes. He prevails, too hellbent on teasing her and chooses to pull the material taught against her swollen lips by the hem, his eyes glazing over as he watches her hips driving up, riding the seam of her underwear.

A light groan leaves Y/N’s open mouth. Harry takes the opportunity to slip his middle two digits onto her tongue, crooning praise as she immediately begins sucking the remaining slick from her weeping hole, lapping at the salty taste. “Tha’s my good girl, look at you. Such a whore when you want to be, aren’t you? Were you this enthusiastic sucking Liam’s cock?”

Instantly she’s shaking her head, her eyes meeting his own, pleading as if she was desperate for him to believe her before they roll into the back of her head, the right amount of pressure on her aching clit sending a zap of pleasure through her.

“No? Well, aren’t I lucky then, s’all for me”

He pulls the material to the side, sliding his fingers through her silky folds, ignoring her protesting groan at the pressure on her pussy being removed. Instead, he tuts his tongue, “to think you were trying to be all dominant. Looks like you were born to be on your back for me.” With that, he slips the wet fingers from her mouth into her hole once again, curling them upwards on each stroke back into her sopping cunt.

His fingers just felt so good, reaching further than her own could ever, tapping gently at the sensitive spot inside of her, his thumb gently rubbing against her clit, but Y/N needed more. She needed his mouth on her. She grasps at his bicep, pulling him further down, closer to her mound and watches as he pulls his fingers out of her and slips them into his own mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the heady taste of her.

“God, you were so greedy licking all this before, not letting me have a taste or anything.” She wanted to tell him to shut up, to get his mouth on her, but all her confidence had slipped away once she was thrown onto the desk, Harry reducing her to a stuttering mess like usual.

“Plea- Harry. I- come on, I need….”

The feeling of Harry slapping her pussy sends a jolt through her, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure that any trail of thought she had was long gone.

“Spit it out, Y/N. I won’t do it unless you ask me.” She huffs, and he gives her a warning look, one that tells her that being a brat would get her the exact opposite of what she wanted.

“Please, Harry, I need you.” A cocky grin fills his face, and he stands up taller again, leaning his elbow against her knee that was bent on the desk. “Need me to what?”

She growls, “lick me. Make me cum, please.” She’s hardly finished her sentence before he’s on his knees and finally putting his tongue on her, sucking her clit into his mouth.

“Fuck Harry, yes!” She pulls him even closer, feeling his tongue exploring her folds, dipping into her hole and back up to the most sensitive part of her again and again.

Y/N can hardly stop herself from grabbing his hair and pushing his head into her, the tip of his nose rubbing right against her clit as he uses a flat tongue to lick into her.

She’s confused for a brief moment when she feels him stop moving, sticking his tongue flat against her again before she realises what he wants.

He wants her to use him.

Using her hold on the back of his head for leverage, Y/N begins grinding onto his face, directing him exactly where she needs as she moves her hips back and forth, each time pushing his mouth onto her a little rougher.

The groan that leaves Harry sparks the beginning of Y/N’s orgasm. He sounded so desperate, so turned on by the thought of her using him this way, she has trouble believing he’s not a switch. Sure he was dominant; the last ten minutes alone had proven that, but Y/N could see as clear as day that he enjoyed being manhandled too, that the brief moment he had allowed her fingers and spit into his mouth was not a one-off.

Harry Styles was as submissive as he was dominant.

The thought brings Y/N’s climax to the edge, and Harry’s arm wrapping around her thigh to rub her clit with his thumb sends her plummeting.

She feels her whole body stiffen before waves of pleasure soar, each wave sending another spasm through her legs. Harry’s mouth and thumb are relentless through it. Each time she thinks her orgasm is ending, he sparks another jolt of pleasure. By the time she finally calms down, her legs are shaking around his head, and her thighs are closing around him as the stimulation becomes too much.

Y/N watches as his face emerges from between her legs, the bottom half of it smeared with a smug grin and her cum. A shudder is sent down her spine as he uses his thumb to wipe some from the corner of his mouth, sucking the pad of his finger like it was a bit of ice cream that had missed his mouth, the groan that leaves him from her taste sending the shiver deeper, to in between her legs.

Like he hadn’t had his tongue nestled in her cunt for the last ten minutes, and like she hadn’t just had a mind-shattering orgasm.

If she was being honest, Y/N could go again right then and there. In fact, she feels the need doubling as she looks down at the apparent bulge nestled between Harry’s legs, straining against the fabric of his slacks. She hears the man above her clear his throat, and her face instantly flushes as she realises she’s been caught staring at his crotch.

Harry laughs, the sound travelling through her tummy and straight to her cheeks, she hadn’t even seen his dick, yet she was acting this cock drunk? What was wrong with her?

Last time she checked, she was supposed to hate Harry, but she knew that was no longer the case. You don’t ride your enemies’ faces, and you definitely don’t crave their cum down your throat.

Harry must see the confusion flitting across her face because he takes her chin in his hand and guides her face upwards, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers.

“Hey, come back to me, yeah? What’s got my pretty girl all confused, hm? Talk to me.”

My pretty girl. The statement shoots through Y/N like a rocket, each nerve ending sparking at the indifferent way he had claimed her as his.

She chuckles lightly, “god, I’m supposed to fucking hate you.” He grins back, the stretch of his lips tickling her own as he moves. “Yeh? Why are you so wet then?” At this, he drags his ring finger through her puffy lips, pulling back slightly to show the slick practically dripping from the digit in front of them.

Y/N briefly wonders if it’s healthy to blush so much as she feels her cheeks heating up once again. Harry revels in how she ducks her head shamefully, the colour on her face deepening as he pops the cum covered finger into his mouth and sucks off her sweetness. Leaning in, he kisses her gently, groaning as she opens her mouth and sweeps her tongue against his, licking off the remaining taste of herself.

If Harry’s honest, he wants her tongue against his cock. He wants to thrust inside her mouth until her throat’s constricting around his weeping head; he wants to split her open. He wants to hear her cry his name as he thrusts inside her again and again, but he doesn’t want to ruin this. He wasn’t exactly sure what ‘this’ was, but he was fully aware that no other person had made Harry so gooey inside.

This felt so different from anything Harry had ever experienced, and what was he supposed to do with that? He wanted to protect it, take Y/N in his hands, hold her close to his heart and never let go. Not that he was going to tell her that, not yet anyway. So when she deepens the kiss further and reaches down to stroke him through his pants, he pulls away, holding back the whine he instinctively wants to let out as her hand stops its movements immediately.

She looks confused, and Harry’s heart aches.

“Are you okay?” He nods and watches as her gaze drops to his adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. She leans up and presses a gentle kiss against the side of his throat, pulling back and looking him in the eyes, and she holds his head in her hands. Inadvertently, Harry leans into the touch, enjoying how her thumb stroked against the smooth skin of his cheekbone. “We should get you cleaned up.” Instantly Y/N frowns, her mouth forming a delicious pout that Harry has to drag his gaze from. “What about you? I wanna make you feel good too. Please let me.”

He shakes his head, dropping it against her plush chest. Instinctively she smooths her hands through the tufts at the back of his head, gently stroking and tugging. “What’s wrong, Harry? Talk to me, please.”

He lifts his head, resting his chin against the bone of her sternum, careful not to rest too much weight on her. “Nothing, I promise,” his signature grin plastered on his face. “I’m happy, just want to be with you now. Don’t want anythin’ else from you.”

She doesn’t quite believe him. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever met a man who would willingly turn down a blowjob, but she would always respect boundaries, even if she didn’t believe the intention behind them. Perhaps he was just uncomfortable, or hadn’t shaved and was self-conscious about it or summat? Maybe he just didn’t want to, and Y/N was more than okay with that. Thinks at this rate, she would do whatever Harry wanted, even if the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to do the opposite.

So she only nods along and pushes a few loose strands of hair away from his face admiring the gentle slope of his cupid’s bow and the flutter of his eyelashes against the curve of his cheekbone.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

The smile he gives her makes Y/N’s heart flutter tenfold.

She was utterly fucked.

—-

Y/N didn’t know why she felt nervous. She definitely shouldn’t. It was just Harry; she’d spoken to him thousands of times, dropped bits and pieces into his office a million times over without hesitation.

It was just Harry.

Just Harry, who had his face buried in her pussy not twenty-four hours earlier, that is.

Y/N couldn’t help it. While she could’ve confidently explained why Harry had made her restless and fidgety a few months ago, words escaped her to explain why that was now. If anything, she should feel more comfortable than she was before. He had seen, felt, tasted parts of her that not many people had been privy to, and he’d made her feel good, at ease.

So why did she feel so nervous now?

The very thought of entering his office, seeing those eyes staring through her and those perfect lips shaping around her name, sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N was still trying to figure out if this was good or bad when she forced herself to walk through the door anyway.

Instantly the smell of vanilla and patchouli overwhelms her senses. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, she feels her iron grip on the folder in her hands loosening slightly. It was calming, so familiar and intimate. It brings her back to lying on the desk last night, pleasure overwhelming her while she eyed the water-stained roof, Harry’s fingers tightening around her own.

"Y/N, hey!" The voice is definitely not Harry's; she only notices Sarah's presence when she looks to her left. She jumps slightly, she hadn't anticipated company and her mind quickly ranges through emotions of comfort and then disappointment.

Sarah's presence meant there was another person to help ward off any awkwardness and also significantly increased the chances that the topic of last night would be narrowly avoided. But it also meant Y/N couldn't take Harry in exactly how she just this moment realised she wanted to.

Shamelessly, without hesitation and perhaps with a kiss to kick it off, though she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of that thought.

Sarah's voice brings Harry's attention upwards, away from his computer screen, and he physically has to tear his eyes away from Y/N's legs, bare and in a black mini skirt- just toeing the line of inappropriate for the workplace.

He coughs, his cheeks heating with the knowledge that Y/N has definitely noticed his indiscretion if the uncharacteristic smirk is anything to go by.

"Hi, pretty girl."

If Harry struggled with her bare legs, Y/N is battling for her life. She knew she was completely and utterly fucked. Those few words had nearly brought her to tears, her thighs instantly squeezing together at his voice's raw and raspy tone. He knew what he was doing; he had to.

And, of course, he did, referring to her the exact way he had last night after coaxing her back from her orgasm.

He was such a tease.

Standing up, Harry walks towards her, motioning to the folder in her hands, "what's this?"

The return to Harry's regular cadence of voice seems to wake her up, her eyes visibly opening from the hooded daze they had been in, no doubt remembering the events of last night.

"Uh, just dropping this file off. Tom said it might help you with your client." Harry squashed the brief fluttering of jealousy in his tummy at the thought of Tom (an admittedly attractive coworker he had overheard talking to his friends about how he thought Y/N would be good in bed) with Y/N. They worked together; of course, they'd need to talk eventually. Besides, it wasn't Tom's tongue that was buried inside of her last night.

"Hm, how kind of him." He lets Y/N assume this is the end of his sentence and watches as she nods in agreement before continuing, "can I ask why Tom himself isn't delivering it?"

Busted.

It wasn't as if Tom hadn't asked her to supply Harry with the folder, but it technically wasn't as if he had either. Y/N had overheard him chatting with a friend in the breakroom about when Harry's lunch break was so he could ensure he was in his office when he delivered it, when Y/N had stepped in and, well, lied.

"Oh, I have to take something to him as well. Did you want me to just grab yours too?"

And well, Tom didn't hesitate. She guesses one less task for him to complete. But she couldn't necessarily tell Harry that, and she certainly didn't want to, knowing it would inflate his poor ego even further, and with how big it already was, she feared it would float away.

Harry knows that whatever was about to come out of her pretty little mouth was a bold face lie, thanks to Tom coming into his office about half an hour before attempting to pry any details he could about Y/N's willingness to see him out of Harry.

"Uh- not sure! He just asked me. I guess he's probably… well, he's seen us around, assumed we were friends or summat? Not sure! You'd probably have to ask him yourself." She finishes with a smile. To anyone else, it would probably look unassuming, but Harry can see right through her.

He nods, stepping even closer to her, about two steps away from invading her personal space- not that she'd mind, but she'd noted it, with Sarah being in the room and all. Harry watched her gulp, her throat bobbing as her eyes trained upwards to accommodate the height difference between them. The image of her on her knees flashes in his mind, and he has to consciously expel it, although his voice comes out raspy and bothered due to its effect.

"You're cute when you're flustered. Lying to me already?" He pulls his arm in between them, pointedly checking the time on his watch, his wrist brushing gently against her covered chest with the movement, "and it's only 11 in the morning."

Her eyes flash to Sarah, still sitting unassumingly in the corner on her phone and blissfully unaware that the territory Harry was walking in was quickly overstepping the line from professional.

What with his 'fuck-me’ eyes and his bottom lip tucked safely under his top two teeth.

"I'm not… I'm not lying."

His eyebrows raise in question, an amused but intimidating smirk stretching across the bottom half of his face.

It's then that Y/N realises he definitely knows she's lying and that she hasn't even nearly gotten away with it.

She rolls her eyes, "okay, so I offered to bring it to you. What's the big deal?"

His grin reaches cheshire status, his eyes fully alight, and they take on an air of teasing. "Did you just want to see me, hm? Miss me already?"

The smell of mint wafting off him almost causes Y/N to roll her eyes for a different reason, but she smiles nonetheless. "Maybe," she shrugs.

Reaching up to twirl a strand of her hair around his ringed finger, he leans in even closer, "you only saw me last night." She swallows, his proximity affecting her more than she could ever admit, her gaze flicking between his unwavering eyes and his plush lips, "I know."

Her voice is hoarse, and she hopes to god Sarah is seriously engrossed in whatever is on her phone because anyone who heard it would immediately be able to tell it was laced with a certain desperation for the curly-headed man before her.

Harry feels happiness soaring through his veins at her admittance, her hungry eyes causing blood to rush through his veins and between his legs. Sparing a glance at Sarah, he presses a gentle kiss on Y/N's cheek, leaning closer to her ear and whispering, "I missed you too," before he leans back, taking the folder in his hands and walking back to his desk.

"Thanks for this, Y/N, and tell Tom I said thanks too."

Y/N feels the need to clear her throat, the brash difference between his low intonation while whispering in her ear and the bright and cheerful way his professional facade returned, leaving her dizzy.

"Uh- I will. Thanks."

Slowly, she begins to back out of the office, unable to entirely take her eyes off the man who now sat in front of his computer, his attention on an email he definitely did not need to read at that very moment, but what could Harry say? He liked to make her squirm. She loved how he could feel her attention on him, begging him to return her longing gaze.

He only glances up when she says a quick but friendly goodbye to Sarah, the yearning look in her eye disappointing him none.

Harry allows himself a mere three seconds of silence before it's abruptly interrupted by Sarah.

"Huh."

Harry forces himself not to roll his eyes, trying desperately to keep his attention on his computer screen and not on the very annoying woman pointedly looking at him from the corner.

He lasts all of five seconds before her stare causes him to turn to her exasperatedly, "what?" Sarah laughs at his theatrics, holding her hands in front of him in surrender, "nothing, nothing! I just don't think I've ever seen you be so friendly with Y/N before."

This time Harry does roll his eyes, "and?"

She laughs again, her eyes holding a certain curiosity Harry really wasn't interested in addressing currently, "nothing!" She repeats. "Just if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were interested in her." She drops her voice and very badly tries to mimic Harry's slow british drawl, "Hi, pretty girl."

Harry takes a moment to wonder how hard he'd have to roll his eyes before they popped right out of his head. Whatever the answer, he imagines he'd be pretty fucking close. "Fuck off, Sarah."

"C'mon, Haz, I'm only teasing you!" She waits for him to look up at her again, a suspiciously innocent look overtaking her face before she adopts her ridiculously inaccurate imitation again, "what? Miss me already?"

She's cackling as Harry's growling at her, "get the fuck out of my office!" Before she makes her way out, taking great pleasure in the way he was crossing his arms and huffing like a petulant toddler.

And it wasn't like Sarah was wrong, which is perhaps why he's so annoyed. He was interested in Y/N; of course, he was. In all honesty, he's surprised he didn't immediately confide in Sarah about the events of last night as soon as she'd stepped foot in his office, but something about it felt different. It felt private, a secret between just he and Y/N, something he felt would be breaking her trust if he told someone, even his best friend.

He didn't know if perhaps he was worried it wouldn't play out exactly how he hoped or if he was just concerned that sharing the experience with anyone else would water down its saporous taste. Harry felt greedy. He wanted it all to himself, he didn't want anyone else to know how Y/N sounded when he suckled lightly against her neck or how soft the skin of her wrists was.

No, he thinks for now, he'll keep Y/N all to himself, let the taste of her settle on his tongue and slip down the back of his tongue, intoxicating him through and through.

—-

The thin paper of the coffee cup does nothing to stop the liquid inside burning Harry's palm, but in all honesty, he hardly feels it. No, the burning of something much deeper licks up his spine.

It's the sight of Liam Payne standing in Y/N's office, his Y/N.

And don't get him wrong, Harry wasn't necessarily jealous, but something about Liam's stance in front of Y/N's desk pissed him right off. So cocky and confident, why was he leaning down and towering over her like that?

Harry walks closer, leaning into the door so he can hear what the pair are saying, but even with his closer proximity, Harry has to strain to hear a thing.

"So that's just it? You're fucking him now?" The low drawl of Liam.

"Li- I don't know, why are you even... Who told you that?" Harry's furrowed eyebrows naturally soften at the confused and upset tone of Y/N. Who on earth were they talking about? Surely not him? How would Liam, of all people, know what had happened between them?

"No one had to tell me. It was a pretty easy guess," the man snarls, "you do see the way he follows you around like a lost puppy nowadays, right?"

Okay, maybe he was referring to Harry, although he definitely didn't appreciate the unnecessary comparison.

"He does not! We are fri-friends. I like spending time with him." Harry hears the way Y/N's voice cracks on the word 'friend', and he has to ignore the flush of pleasure he gets from her referring to him in this way like he didn't have his fucking tongue between her legs last night! What was he becoming? Maybe he was like a lost puppy around her, for god's sake.

It's Liam's following words that cause Harry to jump in, the instant anger boiling in his blood causing him to swiftly step inside the office and shoulder check Liam as he walks by, coming to sit on the desk in front of Y/N.

"That's what you said about us, and next thing you know, my cock was down your-"

"Oi wanker, what are you doin' here?"

Liam's mouth drops open in shock, and if Harry wasn't so angry, he would've laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

The man in front of him fumbles slightly, unsure how to handle the clearly disgruntled Harry sitting in front of him, whose stature- even when sitting down- was nearly as considerable as his own. "Uh, nothing, just chatting to Y/N." He tries to flash her an annoyed look, but Harry merely leans slightly to the right, blocking his view of her and replacing it with his less than impressed simmer.

"Huh. Didn't realise you two were that close?" Immediately Harry can see Liam become defensive, his arms moving to cross his body and his posture leaning back slightly. "Could say the same about you two."

When Harry's gaze doesn't even flicker away from his own, Liam continues, desperately trying to fill the silence in which he felt his confidence drowning in. "Look mate, can ya move? We're just chatting."

Harry almost has to laugh; chatting was one way to put it. Mildly harassing was how Harry was more likely to phrase it.

"Chatting, huh?" It's for the first time now that Harry glances back at Y/N, humour in his eyes. "Did'ya hear that Y/N. Chatting!" She still has a slightly worried look in her eyes, one that Harry had very much begun to love, but it's mixed with a sense of hilarity at Harry's very clear teasing.

He turns back to the man in front of him, "what is it exactly that you were chatting about, huh, Li? I do love a good gossip!"

Liam's nose scrunches at the unfitting nickname, but Harry can sense his hesitation to answer the question. He probes even further, "didn't sound too light-hearted and fun to me, but maybe I'm misinterpreting your fascinating attempt to 'chat,'" he emphasises the word, the 't' leaving his mouth sharply. Liam flinches like Harry had slapped him, his brusque manner of speaking more poisonous than he'd realised.

Good.

He hoped Liam was scared.

"Move it along, Payne, back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

The man in front of him snarls, "fuck off, Styles." He backs away anyway, moving towards the door while maintaining eye contact with Harry, only dropping it once he was over the threshold.

Harry is quick to turn back to Y/N, "y'alright, babe?" She nods, although the uneasy look in her eyes tells Harry that she's not being entirely truthful. "Yeh, I think so. How- um, how much of that did you hear?"

Y/N watches as a grimace flits across the handsome man's face, "enough. You sure you're okay?"

Nodding again, she swallows, the sound uncomfortably loud in the silent office. "Yep. I mean, we knew he was a dick, right?" A shallow laugh leaves her, and Harry knows she's more upset than she's leading on. Instead of pushing it, he leans over the desk, taking her face in his and gently pressing a kiss against her plush lips. Pulling back slightly, he whispers, watching the way she shudders against him, "that is an understatement."

He leans back, and Y/N scolds herself for instantly missing his presence so close to her, "I um, I brought you a coffee."

And maybe Y/N's heart swelled in her chest; perhaps she had worried that things would change after the nature of their relationship did.

She takes the cup he's holding in front of her and takes a sip, the warm liquid instantly easing the anxiety present in her stomach.

——

The next few weeks are one of pure amazement. It was honestly like a switch had been flicked inside Harry's mind. He was kind and considerate, gentle and understanding and loving, so so loving.

Y/N can't say that he was necessarily cruel to her ever since they'd become closer working on the Andrews case, but it wasn't like this, nothing like this.

Every morning he would drop a coffee at her desk, whether she was there or not. Usually, if she was occupying the office, the delivery would come with a gentle kiss on the cheek or a squeeze of her hand, but if she wasn't, she would be greeted with the cup and a note left right on top of it. One morning he'd even taken the time to draw a little flower with sunglasses and a smiley face.

Y/N had to consciously stop herself from cooing out loud.

He'd begun to pick up her printing when she got distracted after sending it to the printer (which, if she was honest, happened more often than she would like to admit. Her head was always too busy! She'd click print and then get distracted by a new email that had come in or an advertisement for some shoes that she had been looking at on Instagram the night before because obviously, that meant that the universe was sending her signals that, yes, she absolutely needed them.)

But Harry wouldn't get annoyed or tease her when he'd noticed her telltale orderly and colour-coordinated meeting notes sitting in the tray of the printer. He would just laugh and drop them off at her desk, entertaining her mindless rambling about fate or kismet or whatever the fuck she was talking about and simply tell her the shoes would suit those green pants she loved.

He'd sit with her in her office with his laptop while she did her own work, answering her with ease each time she asked how to spell 'receipt' or 'chauvinistic,' although he had no idea what that had to do with her work, and ignoring her mindless muttering at her computer screen.

He'd basically scared Liam off forever, sending him a vicious glare each time he even stepped a foot closer to Y/N than he needed. One time, Y/N had even told Harry to back down. He looked like a dog ready to attack at any moment, and Y/N swears to god she was worried he would start barking at the terrified bloke in the middle of the elevator, but Harry had just brushed her teasing off once Liam had left, the same fondness he always held in his eyes when looking at her returning.

Harry had even cemented Lucy and her own spot in the cliquey office food chain, inviting them to lunch with his group daily. It was quite cute, Y/N thought. Mitch and Sarah were together, Lucy had taken a particular interest in Harry's friend Xavier, and well, Y/N and Harry were a couple of sorts, not as evident and official as Mitch and Sarah, but she often caught him looking at her when she was distracted talking to Lucy and Xavier often rolled his eyes and teased them about how soft Harry was around her.

Harry would go out of his way to invite them both to social events that, three months ago, Y/N literally would have thrown up at the very idea of going to, but the thing was, she had fun! She was happy at her workplace for once, and she finally felt like part of a group.

It wasn't that Y/N didn't still get nervous around them, she definitely did, but she'd stopped stuttering as much when asked direct questions- Harry's presence probably helped a lot with that.

It still didn't mean that Y/N didn't need at least three standards before she could openly talk to Sarah about her preference for home-cooked over ordered-in meals or answer Mitch's blunt questions. (She'd really thought he'd disliked her before she realised that Mitch kind of spoke to everyone like that, even Harry, who had known him for at least four years.) Harry had invited Lucy and herself out for drinks after work on Friday, and while Y/N felt anxiety tightening through her tummy, she could hardly say no to Harry's puppy dog eyes and overexcited smile.

And well, now Y/N was drunk. Not so drunk that she couldn't walk, but drunk enough that the world was slightly fuzzy, and the light shining onto Harry's soft skin made him look akin to an angel.

He was so pretty, his brown curls swooping perfectly across his forehead, and his candy-coloured lips looked soft and kissable. And perhaps he'd noticed Y/N staring all doe-eyed at him, but he hadn't said anything, only squeezed gently at her thigh that was resting comfortably against her own before returning his attention to Mitch.

It was only when she'd begun to let the sleepiness plaguing her for the last half hour win by leaning against Harry's shoulder did he acknowledge her properly. "Y'alright?" She only nodded in response. "Just sleepy, hm?" His heart constricts in his chest as she sleepily blinks up at him, rubbing her eyes like a toddler and nodding again. "Hmm yeah, haven't been sleeping well. Moose's been keepin' me up."

Harry had fallen in love with Y/N's little tabby cat, probably because of his big green eyes that Y/N said looked exactly like his, but probably more likely because the second he'd stepped foot in the door of Y/N's two-bedroom apartment, Moose was rubbing against his legs and purring like it wasn't Y/N that fed him and kissed him and loved him daily.

He could barely contain his laughter at Y/N's disbelieving face as she stood staring grumpily at the loved-up pair, exclaiming, "it took him two weeks just to let me pat him!" And then turning to the purring creature, "traitor," before rolling her eyes and making Harry a cup of tea while glaring at them both from the kitchen.

"My boy being naughty again?"

She glared at him through her lashes, and Harry had to will away a stiffy, the look she was giving him had quickly become one of his favourites.

"What?" He knows what.

"You know what. He's not your boy," She sways slightly as she says this.

They're interrupted by Sarah cooing from across the table, "aw, you two are too sweet!"

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend's antics, and Y/N briefly wonders if this wasn't the first time she'd teased Harry because of this, "fuck off, we are just friends."

And well, Y/N didn't know any other friends who ate each other out on their desks and spat in each other's mouths, but she wasn't going to say anything. These were Harry's friends, and she guesses it would be his decision about when he would tell them- if he ever would at all, although the thought of her being his dirty little secret forever made her a little sad.

She notices he pulls away from her slightly, and it makes her even sadder.

—-

The fuzziness of the world had become slightly clearer now that most of the alcohol had flushed from her system, but Y/N still felt giddy. Maybe it was Harry's hand resting on top of her leg, or perhaps it was the way that, regardless of his friends garnering his attention for most of the night, he had steadily moved closer over the last three hours until they were pressed right against each other.

Y/N felt each inhalation and exhalation he made, every laugh rumbled through his body into her own, and when Y/N would trail her hand up the back of Harry's neck while he was busy chatting and twirl the curls at the base of it, she felt the way his breath would hitch.

They'd outlasted everyone, Harry's friends saying goodbye one by one until it was just them at the table stuck in their own bubble. But Harry just didn't want the night to end. It wasn't like they'd never be able to hang out like this again; hell, they'd see each other on Monday at the office, but he couldn't bring himself to untangle their limbs, not just yet anyway.

That is until Y/N had looked up at him with these doe-like eyes that he knew she was trying to make look sexy and whispered in his ear, "wanna go back to your place?"

Y/N watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed until he grabbed her hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, "I'd love to," leading her gaze right back to his stupid kissable mouth.

She could hardly stop herself from kissing him right then and there, so she really has to applaud herself when she manages to control herself all the way into the hallway of Harry's apartment, which is finally where her composure snaps.

Just as he gets the door shut, Y/N is leaping against him, pressing her mouth against his own and groaning at the taste she'd only experienced once, weeks ago now.

It had been so fucking long, and she knew Harry was a gentleman, and she knew they were just spending time with each other without sex getting in the way. But if she was being candid, tonight, she wanted Harry to treat her in every disrespectful way he knew how to.

She didn't want the romance right now. She didn't want the sweetness- she knew Harry could be like that. No, right now, she wanted his tongue down her throat. She wanted him to fuck her, hard. She wanted to wake up tomorrow and feel exactly where he'd squeezed, pushed and pulled.

She just wanted to feel every bit of him.

So when he lets out a grunt of surprise but almost instantly deepens the kiss, Y/N moans throatily.

He pulls back, still close enough that their lips brush as he speaks, "finally," he mutters. "Been waiting all fucking night for you to do that." Then he's leaning back in again, no sense of hesitation as he slips his tongue between her lips and brushes it against her own immediately.

Had she really been that obvious? She hadn't thought so, perhaps she'd been looking at his mouth more than she usually would, but that was it! She hardly has time to feel embarrassed because Harry is everywhere, grabbing her cheek, her jaw, her throat. He's pulling her so tight against himself that it's impossible she could be any closer, but she can feel his desperation. Feel it in the way his hands grasp different parts of her so quickly like he wanted so badly to hold all of them at once but couldn't find the time or patience to do so. Her breast, her cheek, her waist. Only when his thumb brushes against her nipple through her shirt does he slow down.

The sharp inhalation she makes draws Harry's attention to his actions. He pulls back, looking down between them and brushes her nipple again, slowly tracing the tip of his thumb against the bud, visible even through her bra and shirt. Y/N's almost embarrassed at the shaky whimper she lets out.

“Fuck,” Harry whimpers under his breath. She was so fucking hot. The way she’s biting her lip, with her brows furrowing and fuck me eyes boring into his own. He had never gotten so hard, so fast. She had barely even touched him, and he was already leaking from his tip, and he has to swallow down the embarrassment, he wasn’t a fourteen-year-old boy, yet she’d reduced him to acting as such in mere minutes.

“You need- please, get this off.” He’s yanking at her shirt, trying desperately to pull it over her head, and she complies, pulling the fabric up and revealing the plain bra she had on underneath. She smirks (actually smirks, god, she really was a minx) at the way Harry’s gaze drops down and scans back up to her face, his pupils blown out and his lids heavy against them.

He really needed to pull himself together, he’d already had his tongue between her legs before, yet the sight of her in a bra made him pull uncomfortably at his jeans, trying to get the fabric to feel less suffocating on his cock.

They make their way to Harry’s bedroom, the movement a little awkward since Y/N had only been in his apartment once or twice. She would rather have opened her eyes and walked there herself, but each time she would try to pull back, Harry was pulling her closer to him twice as hard. She gives up after the third time, letting him blindly lead her to his room, only bumping into a corner once.

The way they’re kissing is messy, all tongues, teeth, and noses bumping against each other, and when he lays her down and presses his weight on top of her own, she has to hold back her groan. He was so warm and sturdy above her that she could feel the muscles of his shoulders even through his clothes.

He pulls back, smiling down at the woman beneath him, taking a moment to appreciate the way; even in the moonlight streaming in through his partially opened blinds, her eyes still look so bright and lively. It was corny and all, but it looked like they were sparkling. Harry takes a moment to imagine they only ever looked like that when she looked at him, even if he didn’t quite know if that was true.

“Ya look so pretty right now, like a goddess or somethin.’” She rolls her eyes and laughs, shoving his shoulder lightly, but Harry doesn’t miss the gentle hue of pink that spreads across her cheeks.

“Cos’ I’m underneath you, right? Only time I look this good?” It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Certainly helps, but no. You’re this pretty all the time.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to respond before he’s leaning down with his mouth open against her neck, each breath tickling the skin there. “Must not tell you enough if you don’t believe it.”

Y/N closes her eyes, enjoying his closeness against her and how it tickles even more when he speaks. It’s only when he scrapes his teeth against her pulse that she rocks up against him, haphazardly meeting Harry’s hips which were grinding down against her.

The friction is so sweet after so long, and they moan in unison, Y/N’s back arching as Harry continues to rock his hips against her. He was so fucking close, she could feel the heat of him pressed against her, each thrust nudging her clit perfectly, and she grabs the curls at the back of Harry’s head, tugging his head so his mouth met hers again.

Harry's surprised gasp when Y/N unexpectedly flips him over is music to her ears. He’s unsure how she even had the strength to do it, but he doesn’t have time to wonder as her soft lips dragging against his slightly rough neck works to distract him. She nibbles at the skin, taking time to soothe each bite with a swipe of her tongue, working her way down to the gentle jut of his collarbone against his skin, licking against the laurels present there too.

He’s torn between letting out an emasculating giggle at the tickling feeling and groaning at the sensual way she’s sucking and nipping; each kiss getting lower and lower till she’s pushing at the unbuttoned lapel of his shirt to teasingly lick at his nipple. He jerks at the feeling, a whispered, “fuck,” leaving him.

He felt so wound up, so tightly strung that each touch, no matter how hard, was slowly working to undo him. Harry felt as if he was about to burst, but god, the way she was unbuttoning his shirt and pressing gentle kisses against each newly presented slither of skin was sending shivers down his spine.

Finally, she gets to the waistband of his pants, and embarrassingly, Harry is already bucking his hips up against her, whining when she stubbornly pushes them back down each time. She’s killing him. Gently licking at the stripe of hair trailing up his lower tummy, kissing along his hipbones and biting amorously at his fingers as they keep trying to undo his belt until he's a whimpering mess beneath her. Each touch that doesn’t serve to satisfy the ever-growing and painful bulge in his pants brings him closer to flat-out begging- and he realises with a start that it’s exactly what she wants.

“Plea-fuck. Please, Y/N.”

She grins up at him as if he’d just asked about how her day was, not like she’d been torturing him for the past ten minutes. “What?” Any other time he really would find her little nose scrunch endearing, but currently, it's the last thing on his mind.

He throws his head back on the pillow behind him in frustration. “Fuckin’ hell, please just do something!”

Instantly she’s tugging at his belt, pulling it through the loops and undoing the button of his slacks. “Okay, you just had to ask, jeez.” And he really is about to kill her, thinking of how exactly he could get her on her back and choke her while his fingers are slamming into her when his thoughts are abruptly interrupted when she nuzzles and sucks at the tip of his cock through his underwear.

“Fuck!” He cries out. He couldn’t help it, the touch so unexpected and so, so fucking good he felt his legs already shaking. The little vixen is smiling up at him, tonguing his slit and humming around him, rolling her eyes at the salty taste of his precum.

Harry pulls her by the hair, pulling her back long enough to grab his cock out of his underwear, hissing at the relief it brings and instantly groaning as she’s tugging against his hold, desperate to get her mouth back on him.

Sucking his head back into her mouth feels ten times better without the cloth between them, the smooth and wet surface of her tongue sweeping against his slit and the sensitive skin of his frenulum causing him to push her head rather than pull it, silently begging her for more friction. And thankfully, she obliges, taking more of his shaft down her throat and sweeping her tongue against the underside as she goes, bobbing her head back and forth in a rhythm that leaves Harry breathless.

He can feel how her throat tightens and constricts each time she pulls him down further, and he seriously struggles not to buck up each time, instead letting her do her own thing and take him in her own time.

She pulls back, saliva dripping from her mouth and her voice croaky and broken, “can you fuck my mouth? Please?” She really doesn't have to give him those silly puppy dog eyes. Harry thinks he’d do just about anything she asked him at this point.

He moans and grabs her head, pushing her down as far as she can go. He feels her nose smush against the tuft of hair on his pubic bone before he pulls her back up, repeating the process and gasping out each time her throat squeezes around his sensitive head.

“Fuckin’ hell. You’re so good. You’re too good for me.”

She’s moaning and gasping for air each time Harry pulls up long enough to let her, giving him those fucking eyes and Harry just about loses it, yanking her hair until she’s completely off him. She’s sucking in air so quickly that Harry starts to feel a little concerned, although it works to stave off his impending orgasm. One more second of her mouth around him, and he absolutely would’ve been cumming down her throat.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

She glances up at him, and it’s only a second before she’s pouncing on him, opening her mouth and sweeping her tongue against him, Harry moaning at the taste of saliva and cum lingering there. She’s muttering in between kisses, “so fuckin’ good. You’re so hot.”

Laughing, Harry throws her against the bed, turning her over onto all fours and yanking her hips up; Y/N moaning at how he was treating her like a ragdoll. Harry takes a moment to admire the soft curve of her waist, she really was sexy, and Harry feels his prick throb at the thought of her soft cunt sucking him in.

It’s like he can’t get her clothes off fast enough, unbuttoning her jeans from behind and yanking them down her legs, grinning at the giggle Y/N lets out at his haste. They meet eyes as he pulls her pants and underwear around her ankles and onto the floor below them. While this whole experience had felt rushed and passionate, he took a moment to revel in the soft look of humour in her eyes. The way her hair is mussed up from him throwing her around and the gentle smile pulling at her lips. She must be noticing these things about Harry too, because her gaze softens as they hold each other's gaze, Harry pressing a gentle kiss to the swell of her ass and squeezing her hips gently.

He really, really likes her.

The thought scares him and makes his heart swell all at once.

The wiggling of Y/N’s hips brings his attention away from his mushy feelings and into the scene in front of them. He feels slightly bad as he realises Y/N has gotten almost no pleasure herself from this experience yet, choosing to focus solely on his own pleasure, and well, that just won’t do.

Using his thumbs, he parts the puffy lips of her pussy, biting his lip as her slick clings to each one. Like she knows what insane view he has in front of him, she groans, wiggling her hips in protest of Harry admiring her and not doing anything about it.

He dives in and listens in pleasure as her low groan transforms into a high-pitched whine, her face buried into the sheets before her, her hands clutching to them like a lifeline. Without even looking, Y/N can tell her knuckles are white with how hard she’s grasping at the duvet; each lick of Harry’s tongue against her hole forces her to rut forwards and for her whole body to tense in pleasure.

He’s eating her out like a lifeline, sweeping his tongue around and into her pussy, leaning down and suckling her clit, his nose rubbing against the sensitive opening of her hole. Y/N squeals with delight when he even licks around her tighter puckered hole, pressing the tip of his tongue inside and sucking at her rim.

He wants desperately to keep tasting her, but his cock is screaming at him from below, begging to be sucked in by her slick slit. So he stands, pushing her forward until he can fit behind her on the bed on his knees, and gently presses the head of his dick against her budding cunt; groaning deeply at the feeling of her walls contracting around him already.

“Fuck Harry, gonna stretch me out.” She moans, reaching behind and squeezing at the hand on her waist, her heart beating a little faster when he intertwines their hands and squeezes back.

“Yeh? Think you can take it all?” She nods, mewling and trying desperately to look behind her and see his cock entering her, to no avail. “Yeh, I can. C’mon, Haz, give it to me, please.”

And well, Harry can’t say no to that. He slams into her. So hard that Y/N has to push her hand back onto the bed to support her weight, each press of Harry’s hips lurching her forward. Again and again his tip hits the bottom of her cervix, the feeling just budding on the edge of too painful, but for now the pleasure outweighs it.

She’s so loud it sends shivers down Harry’s spine, “shh,” he soothes, although it completely negates how the front of his thighs slam into the back of hers. “It’s alright, y’alright”, he reassures, trying to quiet her upsetting cries as he slows his movements. The loss of friction was too much, and she reached back around her legs, blindly grasping at Harry’s hip in an attempt to get him to keep moving.

She cries out again when he grabs her hand and squeezes lightly but makes no attempt to push back into her, “oh babe, you crying for me already?” he tugs at her until she realises what he’s trying to do, slipping onto her back and gladly accepting the kiss he presses against her panting mouth, “just wanna see your pretty face, yeh?”

She nods, unsure what else he wants, but she understands. She wants to see him too.

He resumes his movements, although this time, his pace isn’t fast as it had been, no. It was slow but hard, pushing her forward with each press of his hips, his tip nudging so deep inside her she felt dizzy.

“God, just listen to you. Such a whiny whore, fuckin’ hell,” he’s met with more whines in response, the effect of them tenfold now he can actually see how her face screws up in pleasure each time he thrusts into her. Her fingers grasp down at the hand he has splayed against her waist, and he mindlessly lets her guide it wherever she wants.

It’s only when he notices that she’s bringing his hand up to her throat do his thrusts falter, a low moan leaving his chest as she places his fingers and thumb on either side of her neck. He recovers and squeezes lightly, “maybe this will shut you up, yeh?” She nods desperately, the only thing on her mind being Harry, Harry, Harry. He feels her tightening around him at his words, and he has to consciously stop himself from choking her too hard as he loses himself in the pleasure.

Each thrust feels harder and deeper than the last, and Y/N struggles to keep up with what Harry is saying; it goes in one ear and straight out the other. “Look at you, god,” he laughs condescendingly, “you’re that fuckin’ cock-drunk.” She nodded and whined because god, he was right, she could hardly focus on a thing he was saying, the tiny remnants of alcohol in her system and Harry’s proximity making her absolutely dizzy.

He laughs again, feeling drunk with the power she was giving him. She sat plainly in the palm of his hand, letting him twist her body this way and that, letting him grasp at her throat like a lifeline and taking it all and loving it at that.

Harry can feel how much she loves it, and it makes him want to scream.

He gives her another rough thrust, pausing to grind deeply into her once he reaches the hilt and watches as tears spill from her clenched eyes. She had tried so hard to keep them in, had felt the burning sensation begin to well as Harry’s cock grinded roughly against the sensitive spot inside of her.

She feels him slow, “hey, hey, you alright?” She sniffles gently, “Y/N take a breath.” He watches as another tear slips down her cheek, gently wiping it with his thumb, “do you usually cry?”

The look she gives him makes his heartbreak. He honestly couldn’t read it- didn’t know if it was pain or longing, desperation or despair. He begins to pull out, but her hand grasping at his waist and her cry of dejection makes him pause some. He’s close to begging her at this point.

“Please talk to me. Is it just with me? Do you want me to stop?” She sniffles again but shakes her head, “please don’t stop. It’s just- so,” her voice cracks, a small sob leaving her, “it’s so much, feels so intense.”

He nods and kisses the corner of her mouth so gently that Y/N feels like crying for a completely different reason. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re alright.” He holds her tightly and begins slowly pushing into her once more. She meets his eyes again, and Harry feels a pang of longing deep in his chest at how absolutely wrecked but desperate she looked.

And god, he gets it. He didn’t know if it was his feelings that were making this feel so intense, but he had never experienced anything like this before, and he completely understood why Y/N was in tears below him. It was like every nerve ending was alight; each tiny movement caused jolts of pleasure through him, like the simple fact of her body being against his was enough to make him close to cumming.

He feels every squeeze around his prick, feels every gasp and groan she lets out deep in his chest. Even now, as she throws her head back, Harry knows she’s close to her peak- though he’d never had sex with her like this before, it was like he could tell what she needed before she could even begin to voice it herself.

He wraps his hand around her jaw, his fingers pressing hard enough that the soft skin of her cheek is dimpled underneath them. She opens her mouth, and Harry doesn’t hesitate to slip fingers inside it, pressing down on her tongue as it laps desperately at his fingertips.

“Harry, spi-,” she cuts herself off with a moan. Harry cocks his head, “what was that, sweetheart?”

She tries again, “spit- spit on me,” he can hardly make it out, but when she pulls back slightly, opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, Harry almost passes out.

She was gonna fuckin’ kill him.

He doesn’t hesitate, letting a string of saliva slip from between his lips and into her awaiting mouth, watching her throat constrict as she swallows it down with a moan.

Harry begins to sloppily rub at her clit, and Y/N grits her teeth, grabbing at Harry’s wrist and squeezing tightly as the sensation of her impending orgasm sweeps through her. She throws her head back as the feeling finally overcomes her.

“Oh my god, are you fuckin’ coming?” He laughs condescendingly. “Fucking hell, you’re even sluttier than I thought. Just need to rough you up and spit on you a bit, and that’s it?”

She honestly couldn’t comprehend what Harry was actually saying to her. Her orgasm was just too overwhelming. It was all-consuming, white heat burning through her and Y/N could hardly stop herself from bucking up underneath him. It felt like it was never going to end, this feeling, and honestly, Y/N’s not sure she’d mind. The idea of getting lost in Harry, his smell, his taste, his touch, forever, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

As the light show behind her eyes finally begins to fade, she feels Harry’s hips falter, once, twice, three times, before he’s pressing inside her as far as he can, leaning over her and letting out the prettiest little moans Y/N had ever heard. She ignores the mild discomfort at Harry pushing inside of her oversensitive cunt. Instead, she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer, holding his torso against her heaving chest as he works through his orgasm.

Finally, she feels his breathing even out, and he begins to hold her back, slipping out of her gently and cooing at her when she hisses at the feeling. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s heart pounds at the feelings welling up inside her, she feels overwhelmed by them, and her chest begins to hurt. It was like a fire inside of her, so much passion and… love. Y/N shudders at the idea of that, and just as quickly as she feels it burning inside her, she feels it fades when she remembers Harry referring to her as his ‘friend.’

She didn’t have to read into this. The rational part of her can safely assume that he didn’t want his friends asking too many questions, particularly when she and Harry hadn’t had the chance to answer them between themselves yet, but there's a tiny part of her that keeps niggling away. Keeps screaming at her to run before she gets attached to someone who doesn’t want to commit back, but she’s not sure she could believe Harry wouldn’t want that.

He had been so charming and caring these last few weeks, going out of his way to spend time with her, even if it meant he had to sit on the floor of her office during lunch and even if it meant he would grouch at her about how much his back hurt because of it.

She can’t imagine the man still wrapped around her would be so malicious to purposefully lead her on. He’d tell her if he wasn’t interested in her like that, right?

He begins to run his hands through her hair, carefully detangling the knots he runs into on the way. It feels good, and he huffs a laugh at the shiver that wracks through Y/N’s body.

Leaning back, he gently holds her jaw, rubbing his thumb across her eyebrow, down the bridge of her nose and over her cupid's bow before kissing her lips gently.

It truly felt as if he could read her thoughts and had purposefully tried to quell them, the kiss so careful and full of tenderness.

“Like you a lot, ya know.”

Harry’s heart clenches at the look she gives him, and he has to press another kiss to her lips. She’s already smiling when he pulls back, a blush spreading over her cheeks in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked her within an inch of her life for the last hour.

She was too stinkin’ cute.

“I like you too,” she giggles.

“Yeh?” He laughs back, attacking her neck with kisses, grinning at the tinkling laughter it pulls from her.

Harry’s not sure how many times he had to say it, but fucking hell, he truly was fucked.

—-

The cool air of Harry’s living room causes goosebumps to pimple along Y/N’s bare legs. Her oversized shirt from the day before doesn’t provide any added warmth, and she briefly wonders if she should turn around and rummage through Harry’s draws for something to cover her legs. He’d left enough items of clothing at her house over the last month they’d been sleeping together, always claiming to forget them after they were thrown off ‘in a fit of 'passion’ (his words, not hers) but didn’t seem to mind when Y/N happened to wear them.

He said they looked better on her anyway.

Perhaps she could steal a pair of sweatpants or his oversized basketball shorts. (She’d been gunning for a specific pair of sweats Harry had, grey with a soft fleece lining, but Harry had caught on pretty quickly after the third time they’d gone missing from his apartment and magically ended up at hers. Somehow these didn’t make the cut of things she was allowed to steal. She was sure the little prick had purposefully been hiding them from her, and she wondered if now would be a good time to look for them, while Harry was distracted by the warmth from the shower.)

Alas, the sound of the front door opening completely derails Y/N’s sneaky plan, sending her in a panicked frenzy instead as she watches Mitch and Sarah walk through the door. Y/N’s pretty comfortable with nudity, but right now, with two of Harry’s best friends (both utterly oblivious that the two were fucking behind their backs), looking at her bare legs makes Y/N shrink inwards slightly. The only action her scrambled mind can think of doing is pulling the hem further down her legs, fully aware that she probably currently looked like a stunned mullet. Hair sticking out all which ways and her eyes so wide they had started to water from the breeze the air conditioner had created.

“Y/N?” Mitch and Sarah looked just as shocked as she did, standing in the doorway, mouths open and feet frozen in their spots. Mitch has the decency to avert his eyes slightly as he sees Y/N’s pantless predicament while Sarah is stuck looking between the half-naked girl in front of her and her own boyfriend, fully knowing if Harry had told anyone but her about his secret relationship, it would be him.

“Fuck- Mitch, Sarah. I’m so sorry.” That’s the only thing Y/N can think of. She’s sorry. So fucking sorry. And she doesn’t even know why! Sorry, she’d gotten caught? Sorry, she’d gotten involved with someone who wasn’t interested in telling his two best friends? Y/N doesn’t know. All she can process is the shame squeezing at her tummy with an iron fist.

They’re interrupted by Harry walking out of the bathroom in only slightly more clothes than Y/N, the very sweatpants she had been planning on stealing sitting low on his hips, and his toned torso glistening with water from his shower.

“Y/N! Do you wanna make french toast for break- Sarah? What the fuck!” He stops dead in his tracks, looking between the beet-red Y/N and his two friends, who seem to have been frozen in the doorway.

“We could say the same to you, Harry. What the fuck is happening here?”

—-

The table is awkwardly silent, all four of them sitting in their own thoughts, watching the french toast cool. The only sound echoing through Harry’s dining room is Mitch’s fingers, nervously drumming at the table.

He’s interrupted by a frustrated Harry, “can ya stop that?”

Y/N instinctively places her hand on Harry’s thigh in a soothing gesture, and she watches as Sarah’s eyes follow the movement.

She removes her hand.

Honestly, she didn’t know why she felt so weird. Y/N and Harry were touchy-feely all the time. It wasn’t like how they were acting was completely opposite from normal, but she guesses it was different this time. This time Sarah knew Harry had been lying to her.

And look, Y/N and himself had spoken about this a few times, Y/N thinking the sooner they told them, the better, while Harry was firm in believing it wasn’t their business and he would tell them when he felt ready- so much for that plan.

Y/N was supportive of his decision, though. They were his friends, and if Harry felt more comfortable with their relationship (whatever that relationship was) being a secret for now, well, Y/N would support Harry in that. She thinks she’d just about do anything Harry asked of her if she was honest, and she’s still not sure if that was necessarily a good thing- look how this had turned out.

“Uh, look, I’m sorry for lying-”

“Why? Why would you both lie about this?” The look Sarah gives him makes his chest hurt and his stomach turn in anxiety. He gets it. He really does. They never lied to each other; Sarah was the one person he told everything to. He imagines if she had been seeing Mitch for months without at least telling him she was interested in him, and his tummy tightens. “I’m happy for you both, I really am. I just don’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from us.”

“Yeh, does this mean you weren’t actually going to that pottery class?” Harry forces himself not to roll his eyes at Mitch’s contribution because, of course, that's all he cares about. (He’d been so excited when Harry had fed him that excuse, claiming, “shit man, nice ceramics aren’t cheap, this is great!” Harry had felt a little guilty when he’d actually gone over to Y/N’s apartment, but he got over it pretty quickly when she pushed him against the wall and sucked him off in the front hallway the second he arrived.)

He turns to Sarah instead, “Look, I am really sorry. I- time just got away from us. I wasn’t ready for the whole office to know, and I wanted to just keep it between us while we figured it out. I’m sorry.” Y/N stops herself from noting that she’s not sure they even had figured it out just yet. She was still a little lost as to whether they were friends who liked sleeping together or what but didn’t say anything.

Instead, she grabs Harry’s hand, squeezing it in solidarity and sending a small smile over to Sarah. “I’m sorry too.”

“I wouldn’t have told the whole office, Haz. I wouldn’t have done that.” She looks so sad. Harry hates seeing her like this. “I know, Sarah, I’m sorry.”

She nods and sends a tight smile across the table, slowly becoming genuine as she notices Harry’s fingers slotted between Y/N’s. “So… are you together now, or?”

They share a glance, and Y/N feels anxiety slither up her throat. She leans in, almost as curious to hear his answer as Sarah seemed to be. Harry grins and nods slowly, “uh yeah. I think so. We haven’t necessarily discussed it yet,” he sends a pointed glare at Sarah, who has the decency to look sheepish, before turning back to Y/N, “but um, yeah. I’d like to be.”

Y/N nods, bringing his hand to her mouth and pressing a kiss against the soft skin of his knuckles. God, she wanted that so bad.

He had to know. If the starry-eyed look was anything to go off, he had to have some kind of clue.

And of course, he did, Harry had been trying to find the time to have the conversation with Y/N for weeks, but they always seemed a little busy, either too deep in conversation or too enraptured with each other and he figured she knew how he felt after his hazy post-orgasm confession.

But Harry couldn’t imagine sitting with anyone else at lunch or watching criminal minds with someone that wasn’t Y/N. He couldn’t picture anyone else reading through his meeting notes and retyping them after he fell asleep because they were too messy or teasing anyone else in the office. He couldn’t imagine touching anyone else the way he touched Y/N, and he couldn’t picture anyone reacting to him the same way she did. It didn’t seem possible for anyone else to fit him the way she did or for anyone else to make him feel so fucking lost in how much he liked them. Their lips just slotted together a little too perfectly, and she just happened to challenge him in the exact right way.

He turns back to Sarah, “yeah, we're dating.”

A gentle flush settles against his cheeks, his teeth gnawing gently at his bottom lip. Y/N really couldn’t believe how beautiful he was and how lucky she was that he was hers.

God, she really was fucked.

----

Follow up can be found here :)

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