adorehs

[adorehs]

HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 8.6K

“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes. 

It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there. 

Harry blinks. 

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look. 

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout. 

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte. 

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera. 

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe. 

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back. 

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting. 

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification. 

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte. 

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...” 

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito. 

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink. 

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe. 

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera. 

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused. 

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.” 

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth. 

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.” 

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face. 

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.” 

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture. 

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal. 

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm. 

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now. 

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty. 

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with. 

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen. 

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together. 

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head. 

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan. 

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed. 

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline. 

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.” 

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down. 

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too. 

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing. 

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits. 

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge. 

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.” 

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock. 

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.” 

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green. 

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?” 

“F’course.” 

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.” 

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?” 

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it. 

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new homage from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting. 

Yeah. He can work with that. 

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows. 

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting. 

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.” 

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.” 

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.  

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods. 

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him. 

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad. 

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more. 

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.” 

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows. 

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.” 

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way. 

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?” 

His strawberry mouth curls a little. 

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.” 

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom. 

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording. 

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier. 

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.” 

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up. 

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out. 

Authenticity. 

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out. 

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles. 

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates. 

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash. 

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens. 

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly. 

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out. 

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags. 

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?” 

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.” 

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart. 

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself. 

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits. 

It’s kind of game over from there. 

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement. 

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh. 

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug. 

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?” 

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing. 

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe. 

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose. 

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy. 

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip. 

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.” 

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train. 

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur. 

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands. 

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead. 

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?” 

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.” 

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even. 

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow. 

He bites. 

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused. 

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?” 

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands. 

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic.  It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording. 

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera. 

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof. 

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals. 

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.  

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment. 

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds. 

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums. 

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.” 

The words coax her to clench over the plug. 

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim. 

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss. 

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible. 

“Hm?” 

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s. 

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?” 

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.” 

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering. 

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?” 

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs. 

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“ 

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth. 

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle. 

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?” 

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego. 

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”  

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?” 

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.” 

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words. 

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.” 

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash. 

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance. 

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks. 

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips. 

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.” 

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs. 

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.” 

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off. 

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.  

“Get that mouth back on my cock.” 

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur. 

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.” 

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.” 

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly. 

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages, 

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans. 

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down. 

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.” 

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?” 

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”  

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased. 

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit. 

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters. 

“…Hm?”

[adorehs]

Y/N just wants Harry to like her.

Word count: 5964

A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.

Now happy reading! I love you

+

Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.

Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer. 

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers. 

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is. 

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy. 

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be. 

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend. 

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden. 

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job. 

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them. 

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

 Everyone would ask Harry to join. 

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud. 

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage. 

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.  

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him. 

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?” 

No answer. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 

He fidgets with his fork. 

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?” 

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate. 

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.” 

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction. 

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft. 

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.” 

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself. 

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile. 

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends. 

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?” 

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover. 

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.” 

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.” 

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

+

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her. 

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old. 

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait. 

“Where to?” He asks curiously. 

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?” 

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?” 

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement. 

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

+

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else. 

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly. 

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.” 

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers. 

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/ 

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached. 

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door. 

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her. 

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused. 

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned. 

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.” 

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to. 

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.” 

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof. 

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.” 

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.” 

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them. 

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.” 

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.” 

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.” 

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?” 

“See you in a bit then.”

+

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats. 

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event. 

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.” 

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!” 

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together. 

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised. 

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.” 

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day. 

+

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year. 

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is. 

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her. 

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls. 

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way. 

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence. 

“I did,” he answers. 

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales. 

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.” 

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.” 

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.” 

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead. 

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France. 

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.” 

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees. 

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry. 

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her. 

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands. 

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible. 

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends. 

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this. 

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay. 

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully. 

And so they continue on. 

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush. 

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is? 

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up. 

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.” 

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes. 

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?” 

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.” 

“Paul Mescal,” he adds. 

“Hozier.” 

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles. 

“You’ve got taste, Styles.” 

“As do you.” 

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her. 

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.” 

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.” 

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?” 

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.” 

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.” 

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry. 

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?” 

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.” 

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too. 

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.” 

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly. 

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?” 

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.” 

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.” 

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door. 

“Let me walk you up.” 

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way. 

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters. 

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.” 

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.” 

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.” 

“Ask me,” he pleads. 

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” 

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.” 

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes.  Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss. 

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises. 

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up. 

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat. 

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back. 

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?” 

Harry can’t say no.

+

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last. 

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps. 

“Morning,” he answers timidly. 

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off. 

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes. 

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.” 

“How does this weekend sound?” 

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?” 

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises. 

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door. 

“Yes, love?” 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?” 

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.” 

Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.

[adorehs]

I have a requeeestt. Would you write something where ice skater y/n has her period and she has practice and it’s just NOT her day. And she doesn’t feel super comfortable telling Harry but he figures it out and just like pure fluff 🙊💗

Grumpy

part one, part two, bonus, bonus, bonus

Harry's girlfriend was a delight. An absolute ray of sunshine. The sweetest human on the plan—

"Fuck off, Niall. I bet your 'superior athleticism' wouldn't last you one ballet class."

Most of the time. She was a ray of sunshine most of the time.

Harry looked up from his phone and saw Y/n talking to a few of his teammates. They were all snickering and laughing as if what she said was funny, which only made her fists curl at her sides, and while he would've found it rather entertaining for her to take a swing at one of them, he would rather not have his friends and girlfriend be on bad terms.

"You ready to go?" Harry asked, sliding his hand over Y/n's and unfurling her fist.

Her face was set in a scowl as she looked over at the boys she'd been speaking to. For the most part they got along great, Niall specifically. They had a sibling-like relationship and often teased one another, but Niall must've said something about figure skating, and that was one thing that would make you public enemy number one in Y/n's eyes. And if she was already grumpy? Harry met his friend's gaze and tried to send a clear message with his eyes: Cut it out.

Because Y/n could throw a punch, and while she was significantly smaller than his teammates, she had a mean right hook.

Y/n gave Harry a nonverbal grunt that she was ready to leave the rink. But she did lean into the tiny kiss he placed on her cheek, which was something.

"Yeah, Harry, take your girl home. I think she's on her period or something."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, time to go," Harry said quickly, pulling Y/n away from his teammates and sending one final look at Niall.

As they walked to the car, Y/n handed her keys to Harry unceremoniously and slipped her hand out of his to cross her arms over her chest. He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears, so he let her stew in her bad mood for a little while. She must've had a rough training session, which could mean she messed up a lot or hardly at all, but Y/n was an extremely tough critic, so it was hard to be sure of which one if he wasn't there to watch.

Y/n's arms stayed crossed as they drove back to his apartment. Harry was fine with it, knowing the grumpiness wouldn't last. It normally didn't with Harry, a fact that he was extremely proud of. Except when he rested his hand on her thigh—close to her knee, he wasn't trying to start anything—she shook it off and shifted so her body faced the window.

"What was that for?"

"For being friends with neanderthals," she muttered. "Especially that one."

"'That one' is your friend, bub," Harry said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "And wait—does that make me a neanderthal?"

"He was out of line. And no," she said, still facing the window, the last part almost an afterthought.

"I'll make sure he apologizes," he promised.

Harry leaned over at a stop light to kiss Y/n's temple. She didn't shrug him off or push him away, which was a good sign, though Harry now had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on. He didn't say anything the rest of the drive, happy to let his girlfriend be grumpy for the rest of the drive. As long as it wasn't directed at him, he was fine.

When they arrived, Harry shouldered both of their bags and handed her the keys to his apartment. "Go ahead and get in the shower. I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."

At that, he could practically see Y/n's grumpy facade start to crumble, but she nodded wordlessly and trudged up the stairs. Harry followed suit, setting their bags down and rustling through his small kitchen, trying to remember where he kept the emergency stash of her favorite snacks.

He realized that it was probably Y/n's time of the month. She became particularly moody around then, and it only took a couple minutes for Harry to put the pieces together. Should Niall have said anything? No, but the fact that he was right probably pissed Y/n off even more.

Harry grabbed a few things before heading down the hallway, the sound of water running growing louder as he got closer to the bathroom. He headed to his room first, setting Y/n's snacks and a couple other things down before kicking off his shoes and leaving to join Y/n like he promised.

"Need some help?"

Y/n was just standing beneath the spray coming from the shower head, not washing her hair or her face, the first steps in a detailed routine. She shrugged as he stepped into the shower, his hands smoothing over her shoulders before kissing the top of one gently.

"What's hurting?" he asked, continuing to snake his arms around her to hold her close.

"My boobs, my back, my ego, and I have the worst cramps," she huffed, but Harry detected the slight shift in her voice. Now that they were alone, she was trying not to cry. "He should try playing his precious sport while his uterine lining is shedding."

"I know," Harry said, reaching for the shampoo she used and squirting some in his hand. "Scalp only, right?"

Y/n nodded, some of the tension leaving her body when he started massaging the shampoo into her scalp. He worked slowly, trying to let the day wash off of her, murmuring to her and kissing parts of her body occasionally. When the actual bathing part of the shower was over, Harry turned Y/n around to face him, his kisses becoming more drawn out, sensual. His hands were soft, but firm, trying to knead away the soreness in her breasts and back.

Y/n sighed, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch. Both of them could feel him growing hard, it was hard not to give the circumstances, but neither of them said anything about it. Harry wasn't really focused on himself at the moment.

"Want me to use the shower head?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I want you."

"Yeah?"

Peeking one eye open, she said, "Don't be so smug about it."

Harry chuckled softly and reached a hand up to hold one side of her face. "Me? Never."

For the first time all afternoon, Y/n grinned, but it quickly turned into a frown. "We can't."

"Baby, we're in the shower."

"Still, I think it's gross." But even as she said it, she moaned when he began to kiss her again.

They had this debate every time Y/n was on her period, but Harry always managed to find some way around it. For her sake, not his. He knew they both wanted to, but Y/n never believed him when he insisted he didn't mind if she was on her period. His solution was usually the detachable showerhead, but she didn't seem to want that this time.

"Here," Harry said, an idea sparking. He sat down, the tiles cold against his skin as he brought Y/n down with him. She didn't follow though, staying standing, her arms crossed over her body. "Would you get down here? I promise I won't even look. See?"

Harry covered his eyes with one hand, then raised them to show that his eyes were closed underneath.

"You promise you won't look?"

"Won't even watch you come, which is arguably my favorite part," Harry said, only half teasing.

He kept his promise to keep his eyes closed, so he couldn't tell if or when Y/n decided, though when he felt her settle over his lap, he had a pretty good idea. She draped herself over him, tucking herself close to him when he was fully settled inside her. Harry couldn't tell if she just wanted to sit like this or if she wanted more, but all he got was a contented sigh in his ear, which didn't really help.

"Okay, you can go now," Y/n said after a few minutes had passed, voice soft and a little slow as if she'd just woken up from a long nap.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "I have to keep my eyes closed and do all the work?"

Y/n only nodded, not moving from where she was tightly hugging him. Harry was amused, but not all that surprised. She despised the term, but Y/n was without a doubt the textbook definition of a pillow princess. She had a pretty tough exterior, but once they were alone, she melted, becoming more needy and letting Harry take control. She liked being praised for taking all of him and behaving for him. His good girl, Harry once called her, and after she lit up from it, he called her that anytime they were intimate. He thrived off of it, Y/n's eagerness to please and the way she let him have his way with her.

Harry maneuvered himself a little, earning a few gasps and whimpers from Y/n. When he finally found a good enough position to hold her while not slipping on the slick tiles, he nudged the side of her cheek with his nose.

"I need at least a kiss first." He was keeping his word, so his eyes were still shut, but when Y/n slotted her lips over his and gripped the wet curls that were pressed to the nape of his neck, he grinned, focusing on the sensation of her kiss. With his eyes closed, Harry felt everything. Every shift of her hips, every clench she made around him, it was almost torturous, but he held off driving into her until he thought she was ready. "Thank you, bub. Be as loud as you want, okay?"

That only made her squeeze him tighter, and Harry took that as his signal to get started. It was slow as he tried to find the right rhythm, listening closely to how Y/n was reacting. Usually he was able to tell by the little faces she made, but he went off her sounds and how hard she squeezed her arms around his neck.

Harry murmured in Y/n's ear the whole time, letting her know how good she felt around him and to touch herself however she wanted. By the end of it, she was all molten limbs and tired, satisfied eyes, kissing all over his face as he smoothed back her hair. Harry gave her a couple minutes to come back down from her high before he helped her stand back up and let her get dressed while he showered properly.

Later that night, Y/n was sleeping in Harry's bed, a heating pad strapped to her back while she stayed tucked into his chest. They'd watched a couple movies and eaten her favorite snacks, and at one point Y/n crawled into his lap to ride his thigh when she claimed she needed another orgasm. Harry was happy to give her one, happy to let her use him how she liked, though he had to help her hips along after a couple minutes.

All the grumpiness from earlier was gone. She had nothing but kind words and sweet nothings and little jokes she mumbled to him as they continued watching a show they started together, which was when she promptly fell asleep. Harry was right behind her, he just had to send a text first.

Y/n's ballet training is at 8am on Wednesday. Be there.

Harry had promised Y/n Niall would apologize, and he couldn't think of a better way than his friend struggling to plié. He didn't need to add or else or any other kind of threat. It was unnecessary. Niall had pissed off Y/n, and he knew Harry would make him pay if he didn't make it right.

After sending the text he set his phone down and settled deeper into the pillows. Y/n shuffled around a little, then murmured, "Little spoon."

Harry understood immediately, turning over so she could wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek on his back. With that, Y/n fell back asleep, and Harry gave one last kiss to her knuckles before following suit.

[adorehs]

Scream*

Summary: An extra for Mine* and Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, plans out a Fall Day of Fun.

Scary movies included.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 5.3k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

The narrow, empty halls of your apartment are quiet as you step through. The air cold and almost eerie, urging you forward in search of your boyfriend.

He’d left almost ten minutes ago to make some popcorn. A task that shouldn’t have taken more than a couple of minutes, but when he neglected to return, you felt your curiosity pique. 

Leaving the bedroom behind, you move from door to door, glancing around each corner as you call, “Har? You about done?”

Still, the apartment is quiet. Not even a rustle or cough to guide you. 

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand to a point, bristling with unease as you make your way to the kitchen. “Har?”

However, the small space is empty. Nothing but a bowl of freshly popped popcorn to greet you. It sits on the counter almost mockingly, offering you no insight as to where Harry might have disappeared to.

You begin to frown, now whirling around in search of clues. “Harry, this isn’t funny anymore. Okay, I’m cold, and I want you to come back to bed.”

Nothing.

And then…a door creaks. A shrill, sharp sound that makes you flinch as you turn toward the offending noise with a glare.

But all you find is a collection of coats hanging inside the small closet by the front door. 

You huff. “Harry, seriously. You got me, all right? I’m scared.”

Suddenly, you feel a large presence looming just behind you. Brushing up against your back as you gasp and spin on your heel.

You come face to face with a large, white mask. The eyes and mouth cut out in an exaggerated drip, as if mimicking a panicked scream.

And you’d be tempted to scream yourself if it weren’t for the familiar, woodsy notes of a cologne you’d recognize anywhere. 

“Tell me, mama…” comes a graveled, husky voice, “…do you like scary movies?”

 Playing along, you gasp quietly and begin to back away. Staring at the tall, masked man with terror until you suddenly hit something else hard and firm. Stopping you directly where you stand. 

It’s another chest, somehow just as sturdy and unrelenting as the first. This stranger is masked as well, the panicked expression almost condescending as it leers down at you. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Smirking, you offer them both a playful glare. “Okay, all right. Very funny, you two.”

For a moment, the two hooded figures merely stare at you before the first one rips off the mask, revealing that comforting head of curly, brown hair beneath.

“Come on, sugar…we wanna hear you scream,” Harry purrs, grinning deviously as Asher removes his hood as well.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” the man beside you hums, but he’s smiling as well, making you laugh.

“God, you guys are so annoying,” you huff, teasingly shoving at Asher with your elbow. “Where the hell did you get these stupid outfits, anyway?”

Harry’s fingers outstretch for your stomach, tugging on your shirt until you’re wrangled into his arms, face squished against his neck. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispers mischievously, nuzzling his nose along your forehead until you squeal. “That’s the fun of Halloween.”

You snort. “Sure. Who were you even supposed to be, anyway?”

He begins to lean back, eyes wide and expression shocked while you blink innocently.

“Ghostface,” Asher says, stepping closer. “From Scream?”

Glancing over the masks in their hands, you shrug. “Never saw it. Wasn’t really into horror movies growing up.”

“Aww, were you scared, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, ghosting his lips along the shell of your ear. “Scared the big, bad, bogeyman was gonna get you?”

“Well, he kind of did,” you tease, glancing over your shoulder while he grins.

“If you wanna stab him, I won’t blame you,” Asher calls, tossing his mask toward the sofa. “I’ll even hand you the knife.”

You and Harry both laugh as Harry tightens his holds on your waist and tugs you back against his chest, chin tucked just over your shoulder. “Maybe that’s what we should do tonight, hm? Stay in, bake some cookies…maybe do a little screaming of our own?”

You smile through a scoff. “Sounds romantic.”

“It could be,” he coos, mouth reattaching to your neck as Asher grins. “Could get all cuddled on the couch…keep you warm on my lap…hold you when you get scared.”

And the idea is tantalizing, made even more enticing by the sound of his voice. “Guess that does sound nice.”

“Yeah? Promise I won’t let anything hurt you,” he breathes, the soft trickle of his exhale sending shivers down your spine. “Won’t let anything scare you. Keep you safe in my arms. Always.”

“Always,” you repeat in a soft sigh, heading rolling back against his shoulder. Succumbing to his seduction. 

You feel his large hand crawl up from your hip until it can rest over your chest. Cupping your tit firmly in his strong palm before kneading it tenderly. “Is that what you want, mama? Wanna stay here with me?”

You hum weakly, eyes glazing over as you look toward the second-in-command watching you by the kitchen.

Asher smiles softly, nodding once as it to reassure you. 

And you do feel reassured. So endlessly content to be in their care. To be loved on by the most wonderful man in the world. Bogeyman or not.

Then, Asher clears his throat. “All right, troublemakers. You two have fun,” he says while heading for the door. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, yeah?”

 Confused, and slightly disappointed, you straighten up, watching as he walks down the hall. “Where…where are you going? You aren’t staying?”

He shakes his head. “The boss gave me the night off,” he tells you, tossing a smirk toward Harry. “And I figured you two could use an evening alone.” 

It’s a thoughtful gesture. One you aren’t quite sure how to feel about. After all, you’re rather used to him. His face, his voice, his comforting nature. You imagine you’ll be worried about him while he’s gone, even if he’s more than all right.

“Okay,” you finally answer, smiling gently to show him you understand. “But you are coming back, right?”

He grins. “Don’t I always?”

With that, he grabs his keys, throws you both a wink, and disappears from the apartment. 

Leaving you and Harry alone at last.

You turn around giddily and snake your arms around his neck. “All right, Mr. Bogeyman. What should we do first?”

He pretends to mull this over. “Hm…think I might have an idea.”

Suddenly, he’s bending down, grabbing onto your legs, and hoisting you over his shoulder. 

You squeal in confusion as he traps you in his hold and carries you to the sofa. Ignoring your playful swats to the back of his head until he can drop you down onto the soft cushions and chase after you.

He slots his body between your thighs, settling his hands beside your head as he gazes down at you. And there’s something fierce and animalistic in his eyes. Reverent, almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. 

“Har,” you gasp between breathless chuckles, “what the hell are you doing?”

He hums quietly before dipping down to brush his nose with yours. His soft, brown curls sweeping across your forehead. “I missed you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, fighting a coy grin. “How could you miss me? I didn’t go anywhere.”

He’s quiet as he reaches for your mouth, allowing his thumb to sweep across your pouted lips tentatively. “Don’t care,” he whispers. “Still missed you. Missed all of you.”

“Yeah?” Your voice betrays you. Quiet and wavering with a rush of adoration you can’t seem to tame.

“Mhm. Wanna make up for it.”

“Is that so?” You arch from the couch until your chest can knock against his. Subtly pleading with him to touch you. “How?”

He allows his finger to slip between your lips. Fitting in your mouth almost perfectly as you circle your tongue around the warm digit and hum gratefully. “You tell me.”

You take a moment to think, sucking on his thumb with fervor while he watches you with an intent focus. Seemingly enthralled by every inch of you, especially the way you become so submissive to his taste.

“Kind of like what you said earlier,” you admit quietly. “Think it’d be fun to have a movie night with you.”

“Yeah?” He begins to smile. “Thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

You shrug. “No. But I like you.”

His expression softens as he slides his finger from your mouth.

“Besides, we never get to play house,” you point out. “Might be fun, just this once. Do some baking, snuggle up on the couch. Stay in like an old married couple.”

“Yeah,” he repeats, a bit fainter this time before he sighs. “You know I’d marry you in a heartbeat, mama. Give you everything you ever wanted. The white picket fence and the little house in the suburbs. Work a 9 to 5 and have tons of babies and debt.”

You laugh, knees squeezing his hips. “I know, but you know I don’t want that. Not right now. I’m happy with how things are.”

“Really?” He doesn’t sound convinced. “You’re really okay with a life of being moved, and taken, and hidden, and threatened?”

You glance over his face, reaching up to brush at the dark hairs of his brows. “I am okay with any life…as long as I get to live it with you.”

He releases a strained breath, surging forward until he can rest his forehead against yours. “Oh, sweet girl. Always, always, always.”

And you know he means it.

You kiss him. Press your hands to his cheeks and kiss him so hard, you both feel dizzy. 

You’d stay here forever, you decide. Right here, just kissing him. Give up everything; eating, breathing, sleeping…just to remain in his arms.

His heartbeat against yours.

“All right,” he finally murmurs, releasing you in an effort to return the air to your lungs. “Let’s make those cookies, hm?”

He wrestles you up and chases you to the kitchen. Retrieving the ingredients while you get the oven ready and prep your space.

You’re a good team. Even when baking, and you feel an abundance of adoration for the man handing you balls of dough. 

You laugh as he flicks some flour at your cheek, and he smirks when you whip him with the edge of your hand towel. 

Once the cookies have been pulled from the oven and placed onto the counter to cool, Harry takes your hand, and leads you toward the bedroom. 

He pulls you down onto the bed and helps you get situated under the covers before flipping on the television. Scrolling through the horror section until he can find the one he’s looking for.

With a coy smile, he glances over. “Are you sure?”

“S’just a movie,” you say. “How bad can it be?”

He grins a bit wider and hits, “Play.”

A phone rings before the camera pans to a young Drew Barrymore. She sports a young, blonde bob and white sweater, and her voice is as bright as a ray of sunshine.

Harry is instantly enthralled, staring at the screen with wide, entertained eyes as his dimple pops free.

He mouths along with the dialogue as though he’s seen the movie at least a hundred times. And soon, you find yourself watching him more than the screen. The way he lights up with certain jump scares, or scoffs when a particular character is on screen.

It’s rare he gets this excited. In fact, the only thing he tends to show this much passion about…is you.

And he’s so happy right now. So relaxed and carefree. Content to be in this bed with you, his arm around your shoulder as you rest your head on his chest. Humming at the way you trail your fingers along the dips in his ribs.

Before you know it, you’re crawling over his thighs, and settling on his lap. Hands around the back of his neck, lips against his. Moving with a synchronicity that can’t be taught. Only felt. 

The movie is long forgotten as his tongue laces with yours, fingers digging into your hips to trap you against him. Groaning softly at the way you nip his bottom lip and move your kisses down his neck.

“Sugar,” he exhales, lashes fluttering shut as he quickly puts the film on pause. “What are you doing, hm?”

“What does it look like?”

He smirks and tightens his grip. “Thought you wanted to watch the movie.”

“And now I’d rather watch you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

He brings a hand to your hair, brushing the strands behind your ear before cupping your cheek. “And what would you like to watch, mama?”

You can think of a plethora of dirty responses. Ones that would surely make his jaw clench before he gave you everything you ever asked for. 

Instead, you find yourself struck with another idea. 

Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, grazing his soft, warm stomach that quivers beneath your touch. “Might have had an idea.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, kissing across the curve of his shoulder while your palms meet his chest. You linger over his pecs before squeezing them, brushing your thumbs over his nipples.

He sucks in a quiet breath, and you feel his eyes staring straight through you.

“Want you…to go back…and put on that mask,” you whisper, dragging your lips up toward his ear. “And then…I want you…to fuck me.”

His breath hitches. “Really?”

Another nod. “S’not so scary when it’s you. It’s even kind of…sexy.”

His hand returns to your hair, squeezing the back of your neck gently. “Sugar, are you sure? I don’t ever want you to associate pleasure with genuine fear. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

You lean back to catch his eye, smiling softly. “I’m sure. That’s the whole point. When I know it’s you, and I know I’m safe…it’s so much hotter.”

He studies you closely, almost as though unconvinced. “We’ll still use our system, yes? Yellow to slow down, red to stop.”

“Yes,” you agree, wiggling a bit over his lap to feel the way he hardens beneath his jeans. “Please, Har?”

His pupils grow hazy with lust – blown out and wildly addicted. But he hesitates, nonetheless. “Need you to promise me, mama. Need to know you’re gonna communicate with me the whole time.”

“I will,” you repeat eagerly. “I will, I promise. Just…just go put it on. Please?”

A moment passes as he sighs and caresses your face once more. Almost as though wanting one last bit of tenderness. “All right, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pulling you down to kiss you. “Anything you want.”

You giggle against his lips.

With a pat to your thigh, he clears his throat and nods his chin at you. “I’ll go grab it and put it on. But when I come back to this room, I want you in nothing but your panties, and sitting on the edge of the bed. Is that understood?”

You feel your body ache with a need that can’t be tamed, stomach folding in on itself as you nod and scramble off his lap. “Yes, Daddy.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he stands, and makes his way for the other room. Leaving you to obey his request.

You tug your shirt up and over your head before discarding it somewhere on the floor. Your sweatpants are next, flicked from your ankles toward the chair in the corner before you brush your hair back, and take a deep breath.

You can feel the way your thighs clench together. The damp spot already growing beneath the cotton fabric of your underwear as you crawl toward the end of the bed. Waiting almost anxiously for him to return.

You appreciate that he doesn’t judge you for your strange request. And you absolutely love him for being willing to play along. Even if it means you won’t get to see his pretty face.

You hear his footsteps echoing between the hall as he approaches. Making your heart leap into your throat before a dark shadow slips into the room.

The mask is familiar to you now. The white, ghostly expression surrounded by the black hood. You can’t see anything behind the eyes. Can’t even see his pretty, pink lips. But you know it’s him. Can tell just from the way his body moves.

You straighten up, hands in your lap as the masked man seems to study you.

His head cocks before you hear a recognizable hum. “Obeyed me very well, darling, didn’t you?”

You nod fervently and tug your lip between your teeth. “Yes, Mr. Ghostface. Always.”

You hear him chuckle, perhaps amused with the nickname. And when he doesn’t correct you or scold you, you assume he likes it. “Is this what you wanted, mama? Wanted me to fuck you…just like this?”

He’s moving closer. A slow stride as if stalking prey, and your insides feel fuzzy as you swallow. “Yes.”

Another hum before he comes to a stop just in front of you, glancing down while a gloved hand reaches out to brush along your jaw. “My sweet girl. You’re trembling. S’that how bad you need it?”

He’s right. You can hardly get a coherent response out as you push yourself into his touch, silently begging for more.

He releases your face and lets his leather-covered fingertips find your nipple. He tweaks it – hard. Enough to elicit a gasp and have you arching up into his palm.

The mask leers down. Offering you no other inclination as to how he’s feeling besides the obvious condescension you can hear in his voice.

“Promised to take care of you,” he murmurs, groping at your chest a moment more before releasing you. “So that’s what I’m gonna do. Take my cock out.”

To accompany his instruction, he nods down toward his hips. Encouraging your hands to travel toward his dark jeans as you begin to pry them open.

You’re nearly drooling as you slip your delicate hands into his briefs to pull him free. Instantly whimpering deep from the back of your throat as you scoot closer and slide your palm up toward his leaking tip.

You hear a subtle hiss from behind the ghostly face before he’s stepping closer. Pushing himself into you.

Then, he nods once. “Go ahead, mama.”

Without needing further instruction, you surge forward, and drag your tongue along the underside of him. Tastebuds coated with a familiar taste that reminds you of certain safety and lust. 

You use the tricks you know he enjoys the most. Licking at the dark veins before moving up and forming your lips around him. Sucking just enough to tease him before trailing your mouth down the length. Making his hands flex beside him.

Then, one of those hands travels to your head. Sprawling out across the back to keep you close and offer you a bit of comfort and encouragement. Not hard enough to hurt you or take away your freedom, but enough to excite you. Make you eager for his approval.

You take him into your mouth. Simpering at the way he groans and slightly twitches against your tongue. 

His gloved fingers disappear into your roots. And they tug to remind you of his appreciation as you swallow around him. Allowing him to hit the back of your throat before you draw back.

“Shit,” comes his gravely reply. Making a dark wave roll straight toward your cunt. “That’s it. S’fucking perfect, sugar.”

The praise spurs you on. Makes your head spin and your legs squeeze together. You need it – need more of it, need all of it. You need to make him proud, make him cum. Make him lose his goddamn mind because of the way you treat his body.

You go faster, suck harder. Bob your head just enough to make his entire body tense with an immeasurable type of pleasure. One that makes him moan your name before bucking himself into your mouth.

You can’t help but gag when he reaches the back, and he’s quick to pull back. Providing you a moment to breathe.

“Sorry, mama,” he hisses, moving to swipe his thumb across your lips. Collecting the bit of drool that drips from your mouth onto his glove. “M’sorry. I’ll be more gentle, I promise.”

But you shake your head. “No, I…I like it. Like that you feel good.”

And you can’t see it, but you imagine he’s smiling. “Is that right, dirty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He seems to groan to himself before he guides his cock back to your tongue. “Then make me feel good, darling.”

You do. Give him everything you have. Hollow your cheeks around his rather large cock and suck until you both see stars. You take as much of him as you can, almost until your nose reaches his stomach. But you can’t quite fit him all the way, and he seems amused by your efforts.

“It’s all right, mama,” he calls, squeezing your neck once. “Know it’s a lot. Already being so good for me. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

You frown, settling for keeping your focus on his tip and letting your palms brush at his balls.

When he notices your pout, he tugs on you again. “What did I say? Need you to talk to me or we stop.”

You pop off long enough to answer, “I’m okay, Mr. Ghostface. Just wish I could do more.”

But you hear a sigh before he steps closer and guides your chin up. “Believe me, sweet girl, you do more than enough. M’already close and I’m nowhere near through with you yet.”

You smile at this. “No?”

The masked face shakes. “No. You wanted me to fuck you, darling, and that’s what I plan to do.”

You drop your hands to your thighs, nails curling into the skin as if to brace yourself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He begins to squeeze your jaw. “So why don’t you crawl back for me. And spread your legs, let me see.”

Within an instant, you’re moving toward the pillows. Settling down onto the blankets as your thighs slowly pull apart to reveal your covered cunt.

And in this moment, you wish you could see his face. The blissful expression he always seems to wear when he gets a good look at you. He loves the way you drip for him. The way your little clit gets swollen with need as your legs shake and your stomach quivers.

And he also happens to love this particular pair of panties. The tiny, pink ribbon that sits on the front. The way it taunts him and calls to him. The way it’s almost innocent in nature despite what lies beneath.

The masked man begins to follow after you. Hands and knees burying deep in the duvet as his head cocks and his attention seems to fall to your cunt.

“Pretty,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hand outstretches, thumb finding the ribbon before he begins to drag it down. Pressing hard into your pussy to feel the dips and warmth leading toward your hole. “Oh, sugar. Did I get you all worked up?”

You nod weakly as you watch his finger land over the obvious wet spot along the fabric. Whimpering gently at the faux sympathy in his voice.

“Must hurt, hm?” he coos, beginning to circle the area with a bit more determination. “To be so untouched? So desperate?”

You nod quicker this time, making a louder, more pitiful noise. “Please, Daddy. Need you to make it better.”

A sadistic chuckle slips beneath the mask before he’s reaching for the lacy waistband. “All right. Gonna make it better.”

He slips the material down your legs and tosses them into the room behind him. Discarding them quickly before laying his palms against your thighs and pressing them into the bed. Keeping them open and spread exactly the way he likes. 

The dark leather around his large hands makes you swallow. You quite like the feel and the sight of it. Knowing that it’s Harry behind the dark façade. And knowing exactly how much he loves you.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface,” you beg quietly – sweetly. “Need you to fuck me.”

His touch constricts, digging into the soft skin of your legs before he’s reaching for his cock. “I will, sugar. Gonna make you scream.”

He scoots forward, guiding the crown toward the weeping hole between your thighs. Prodding at it once, then twice to coat the tip and make sure you’re ready.

But you’ve become a mess of whines and pathetic gasps. His name and a string of pleas that follow before he smacks his hand down your leg to silence you.

“Patience,” he scolds, rubbing the glove over the mark he left. “Daddy’s gonna do it on his own time, understood?”

You pout again but nod. Accepting his condition as you reach for your chest to squeeze your tits in your hands. 

And even without being able to see his eyes, you know he’s watching. Enthralled and mesmerized by the way you arch into your own touch and moan softly.

You pinch your nipples before groping at the flesh a time or two more. Lashes fluttering shut in blissful ecstasy while the space between your legs grows wetter.

You hear him curse before he begins to push in. Recapturing your attention and claiming your pleasure as his own.

And it’s at this moment that you wish you hadn’t asked him to put on that stupid mask. Because you want to kiss him, more than anything. Want to see his face, see his beautiful lips as he drops them open with a low groan. Want to nip at his jaw and leave marks down his neck. Want to tangle your fingers in his curls and tug until he whimpers your name.

Instead, you stare at the face of a ghost above you. Which isn’t so bad. After all, it’s still wildly arousing as he sinks into your cunt with a practiced precision.

Instantly, you toss your legs around his hips and hook your ankles near his ass. Pulling him in deeper while he sucks in a sharp breath and bottoms out.

You hold onto each other for only a moment. The cold face of the mask brushing against your cheek as you shiver and subsequently clench around him.

“Sugar,” he warns, but it’s mixed with a lewd moan. “M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” you gasp, although you’re anything but. “Just feel really good.”

You feel a hand on your ribcage, squeezing as though to show some sort of affection. “Good,” he murmurs before pulling back and pushing back in. “Cause it’s all for you, mama.”

You arch from the bed as he begins fucking into you, hard and slow. Hitting spots inside you that are so deep, you think you feel your stomach flip. It’s incredible the way he uses your body. The way he knows it, works it. Works himself into it. Plunging himself inside your pussy until the sounds of your arousal echo between your ears.

You glance down to watch, loving the way you can see your drip on his cock, the way it coats your thighs, coats the blanket beneath. Glistening in the soft light of the room and from the TV in the corner. 

He’s grunting from the force, slamming his hips into yours while you gasp out his name. 

Leather-clad fingers land on your chest. Effortlessly brushing your own hands out of the way as he takes you in his palm and harshly gropes at your sensitive breast.

It looks pretty in the glove. Dangerous, in fact. The slight sting makes your eyes roll back and your body shudders with pleasure while Harry begins to pick up the pace. Fucking into you quicker as he begins to chase his release.

Suddenly, he’s tugging on one of your legs to return it to the bed. Once again pressing it hard into the mattress at an open, spread angle to find that position he wants.

You whine as you’re manhandled, bucking up from the rush of euphoria when he finds a particularly pleasurable spot. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” he exhales, drawing back almost all the way before sinking in to the hilt. “S’a lot, yeah?”

Your head moves up and down wordlessly.

“I know,” he hums, rhythm beginning to get sloppy. Uncoordinated and rushed, like he’s nearing his release. “Shit, I know, mama. M’gonna cum…and then m’gonna make you cum. All fucking night—”

You cry out at another wave of something sweet before he’s grunting in your ear and twitching inside your soft walls. “Har…Harry, please—”

“I know,” he repeats, gritting the words between clenched teeth. “I know, I’ve got you. Always got you—”

“Please, please, please—”

“M’right here. You’re okay. Won’t stop. Never gonna stop—”

“Daddy—”

“Fuck, yes. S’a good girl, keep still. Just like that—”

He cums. Suddenly and almost without much warning, and it’s strangely addictive. Spilling inside of you until you squirm almost violently at the sensation. Chasing after the need as he empties himself into you before pulling back.

You’re surprised by the abrupt shift, wondering almost sadly why he’s leaving you so quickly when he’s just barely finished.

But the answer soon comes in the form of his hand reaching up toward the mask to rip it from his face. Revealing his flushed cheeks and blown-out pupils as he tosses it aside and surges forward.

His mouth attaches to your pussy before you can even speak. Sucking and licking and drenching his chin in both of your juices. 

It’s smeared across his mouth and nose and cheek like a painting. Making such a beautiful face even that much more alluring.

“Har,” you whimper, reaching for the curls now at your disposal. They’re slightly warm and sweaty from being covered, but it feels good. Almost erotic, and you pull until he moans against your cunt. “Fucking missed you—”

“Yeah?” His grin is devilish as he glances up just long enough to meet your eye. “Good.”

He nips at your clit before swirling his tongue around it and sucking it into his mouth. He presses and pulls until your head rolls back and your focus finds the ceiling. Your thighs burn from the way you thrash, and your toes are curling deep into the covers. 

Nothing can stop you. Nothing can stop him. It’s everything, everywhere, all at once. A rush of endorphins and adrenaline and pleasure and lust and love and adoration.

And you cum harder than you think you ever have. You lose time. Lose almost every one of your senses. You can’t see or hear anything beyond soft murmurs of Harry’s voice, calling to you. Saying something you can’t decipher.

You scream out his name until your throat is raw. And it goes for what feels like hours. Perhaps it’s only seconds, but it feels immeasurably longer than that. 

He holds you through every second. Hands on your hips to keep you against his tongue while he kitten-licks at your pussy until you’re gasping for him to stop. 

He does, but only after he’s decided he’s finished. That you’ve given him all you can and that he’s cleaned up his mess. 

Then, he rises up, and comes to you. Pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you harder than he has all day. You taste everything, but you mostly taste him. And the way he loves you.

He only stops once. Leaning back to catch your eye, brush his thumb across your cheek, and whisper, 

“Fucking love it when you scream.”

~ Mine Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @acesofspadess @stylesfever @caynonmoondreams @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[adorehs]

angel getting high for the first time 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

cw: drug use! its only weed, nothing heavy but if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 11.8k+

—————

(Y/N) kicked her legs in the air as she laid tummy down on her bed. She listened to the ringing from the phone pressed to her ear, waiting for a familiar voice to answer. 

In the middle of the third ring, her hopes were answered when a click sounded. Muffled background noise started through the speaker, accompanying a honeyed drawl.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry murmured, his speech seemingly slower than normal. 

"Hi," she chirped through her smile. Her feet kicked in the air, free hand coming up to twirl her hair around her index finger. "What are you doing?" 

A random burst of laughter bubbled through the other line, distant from the phone though it was still loud. "'M on the phone, be quiet," Harry reprimanded, voice far from the receiver before he returned with a decided softer tone, "Nothing, jus' trying to watch a movie with Mitch. What about you, baby?" 

"Just in bed," she mused, "I wanted to call before I went to sleep. Did you want me to let you go since you're with Mitch?" 

Since deciding on moving in together once their respective leases expired, (Y/N) had been making a point to spend more time with Sarah while she was still so close. She didn't want to get in the way if Harry was trying to do the same. 

"No, no, I wanna talk to you, 's alright," he assured her, "How was your day?" 

It was still sweet to (Y/N) the way that she could text him all day long, telling him everything about her day, and he still would ask her a question like this. He told her once that he likes hearing her voice, even if he already knows what she's telling him. 

"It was alright," she said, rolling to lay on her back, looking up at her ceiling, "I turned in that paper that I was working on last weekend, so that's all done. The library was super quiet today, though, I almost fell asleep in the philosophy section." 

A small laugh sounded from Harry. "Did y'really?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, a smile curling her lips, "Elizabeth had to come entertain me. But, what about you? You did that big piece today, right?" 

"Yeah, the thigh piece," he said, voice thick, "She was a nice girl, but I had a headache by the time we took the first break. She liked to talk a lot. M'hand's been cramping since lunch." 

A pout landed on (Y/N)'s lips. She hated hearing about those kinds of details from Harry's job. She had always figured it was so fun and glamorous, easy and fulfilling. She had never thought about the physical toll of drawing and shading and designing all day long. 

"Oh, no," she hummed, instinctively rolling her wrist and curling her fingers as if she could take his pain from miles away. "Did you take anything to help?" 

"Kind of. Mitch and I have been relaxing since he got home." 

She knew exactly what that meant. Though Harry tended to keep this specific hobby of his separated from her, set on the back burner away from the time he spent with her, she knew better. Besides, she had found that little bag in his dresser months ago, she wasn't completely clueless (of course, he did have to explain what she had found to her, but that was a different story). 

That would explain why time seemed to be moving a little bit slower on the other end of the phone, and the boisterous laughter Mitch was sharing in the background. 

"Have you been smoking?" she asked, voice quiet. She always felt a bit silly bringing this up to him, unsure of what terms to be using and what meant what exactly. 

"A little bit, yeah," he affirmed, "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wouldn't have if I knew you wanted to talk tonight." 

Shaking her head despite the fact he couldn't see her, (Y/N) rushed her protests. "No, no, don't be sorry. I don't mind, you know that. As long as you're happy and you guys are being careful." 

"Always am, baby." 

A heat bubbled in her chest at his words. While he never did it around her, there were times that she called him or he FaceTimed her before bed when he was under the influence and his voice drawling just a little deeper, sitting heavier in his chest, hit her just perfectly. She could imagine the way his eyes were a bit hooded, his tongue sticking around his words, the easy smiles that spread across his face for no other reason than he liked the feeling. 

She wondered what he looked like in the act. Was it like the movies with lavender smoke and pieces of blown glass with intricate details? Or did he make his own little rolls, hanging from his lips like a cigarette? 

Mitch's loud laugh on the phone brought her back to reality, blinking her back to her room and Harry's static on the other end of the phone. Harry gave a muffled response before his own laughter joined his best friend's, the sound drawling and breezy. 

When he returned to the phone, she could hear the lingering smile in his tone. "I think Mitch found a movie for us to watch, love." 

"What is it?" she asked, feeling the end of the phone call nearing. She would have to settle for spraying the stuffed bunny he gifted her for Valentine's Day with a sample of his cologne for her to cuddle for the night. 

"I don't even know," he laughed, "but, I think 's gonna be funny. I think 'm gonna have to make us food, though, so I don't think I can talk for much longer." 

"That's okay. Have fun with Mitch and I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?" 

"Right," he affirmed, voice soft, "Sleep well, lovebug. I'll call you during my lunch." 

"Okay," she sighed, fitting her cheek against her pillow, "I love you." 

"I love you more, baby," he cooed, "Goodnight." 

An exaggerated kiss noise sounded through her phone, pulling a loud peal of laughter from (Y/N)'s lips. He never really did that when he was around his friends, only putting on the show when he was calling her in private. She thought it was very sweet. 

"Goodnight," she laughed, pressing the red button before she became too spoiled with his shenanigans and tried to keep the call going. 

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she snuggled into her comforter, a throw blanket covering her body instead of her duvet. Pulling her studded bunny from the fringes of her bed, (Y/N) nestled her cheek against the soft fluff. The sown still smelled of Harry's house from the last time she had spent the night, bringing her back to what he was doing in her absence. 

The mystery surrounding his activity of choice for the day is what flicked her curiosity. She'd seen a few movies with marijuana being an uncredited character along with a couple of books with the high feeling being described, but she had never been exposed to anything substantial in real life before she moved away from her parents. Even then, she still hadn't experienced more than the herbal scent that inevitably clung to apartment complexes so close to a university campus and the few bleary eyed classmates she had to work with. 

Specifically, she wondered what Harry was like when he was in that state. Those classmates of hers always seemed disconnected, tired, and in their own head. Was Harry the same way? Did he act the way he did when he drank a little bit too much wine? Or was he wild and excitable like those in the movies? Or sleepy like she had read in her books? 

What would she be like? 

The idea followed her behind her shuttered eyes, her mind going a bit floaty the closer she sunk into sleep. 

—————

"Sarah, have you ever... smoked weed before?" 

The words felt silly falling from (Y/N)'s mouth. Was that even the correct term? She didn't know, but she kept her attention on the food she was making in front of her, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice. 

"Yes," she answered with a suspicious drawl, sweeping through the apartment with a laundry basket on her hip, "Why?" 

(Y/N) only shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it." She paused, tipping her head. "What does it feel like?" 

"Smoking?" Sarah pressed. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, feeling shy that she was even breaching this conversation. "Or, like, being high. Is it like the movies?" 

"A little bit," Sarah mused, folding her laundry on the dining room table into neat piles. "It's not as dramatic or crazy, but it can feel that way sometimes. It depends on the person. Everyone's different." 

Rolling her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder at her friend, slowing her stirring. "What are you like?" 

Sarah shrugged, a crease between her brows as she thought. "I haven't smoked in a while, but I used to get really tired. It always depended on what kind we had, but I usually got really tired." 

Is that what Harry did? Did he get sleepy, like some of her classmates? Did he nod off during the movie he and Mitch watched the other night? 

"When was the last time?" (Y/N) asked, hoping Sarah didn't cut her off. She was genuinely curious, she hoped she wasn't prodding and poking past her welcome. 

"Maybe a year ago? Could have been longer," Sarah answered. "I was with Mitch so it wasn't too long ago." 

Fixing her attention back on the stirring of the soup she was making for their dinner, she tried to act casual as she spoke. "W-Was Harry there, too?" 

"Harry?" 

(Y/N) could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she realized where (Y/N)'s curiosity was stemming from. She never tired of teasing just a little over how in love she was with her Harry. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation, keeping her voice to herself. 

"He wasn't there the last time, but he did used to smoke with us sometimes," Sarah explained, sounding a little too amused as she spoke, "Why?" 

Shrugging, (Y/N) pretended as if she wasn't intrigued at the info Sarah could share. "No reason really. Was it fun? With Harry and Mitch and all?" 

"(Y/N)," Sarah sighed, her voice floating through a smile, "C'mon." 

Stopping her distracting task, she turned to face Sarah who was looking at her with that knowing smile she somehow always had when it came to (Y/N)'s secrets. She was an open book as her friend could tell. 

"What?" (Y/N) feigned nonchalance as if she hadn't already been caught. 

"Did Harry say something? Is that why you're asking about all of this?" Sarah poked, her features set in a gentle tease. 

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth she canted her head, eyes dropping to where Sarah's hands had stalled her folding. "Not exactly," she started, "He just... I don't know, I called him the other night and he was with Mitch and they had been smoking, he told me. I know he's done it a few times since we started dating, but I've just been thinking about it since then." 

Sarah hummed, nodding her head as she listened. "I get it," she said, "I know he doesn't do it around you or anything, right?" (Y/N) only shook her head. Popping her hip with a furrow appearing in her brow as she cast her mind back in search of answers for (Y/N)'s previous questions. "I wouldn't say it's exactly like the movies," Sarah continued, "But it depends on the person and the strain, and things like that. I usually get pretty tired and hungry, Mitch is like the movies sometimes—loud and everything is funny—, and Harry gets really lovey and lazy. None of us really make much sense, though." 

(Y/N) tried to picture it. Lavender smoke in the air, Harry lazing about with hearts in his eyes, Mitch laughing about nothing, and Sarah passed out in the corner with a pillow under her cheek. A pinch appeared between her brows as she tried to see where she would sit amongst those characters. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" 

Blinking, Sarah brought her gaze to her friend. She pursed her lips as she took in (Y/N). 

"I don't know. It's not the same as being drunk, so I don't know if you'd be as excitable." Sarah contemplated for a moment longer. "I don't really know, honestly. Are you thinking about finding out?" 

She could only shrug. A similar anxiety she felt around alcohol before she broke that barrier still surrounded this, if even a bit heightened given the fact the substance was still very much taboo in her life. There were so many scary, over-exaggerated out there about marijuana, along with the fact that it was still very much taboo in (Y/N)'s life. The use of it seemed to be something that was only done in private and kept as a secret for some people. She was worried that if she found out why, she would regret it. 

Though, there were those puffing thoughts in the back of her mind that begged to differ. It couldn't be that bad. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah were three of her favorite people in the whole world. They weren't devilish burnouts with a one-track lifestyle taking them down the drain, like horror stories and PSA's liked to project. They were good people who sometimes indulged in extra relaxation when they had the chance and the mindset to do so. There was nothing wrong with that. 

"You could ask H, if you wanted. You know he'd answer anything you wanted to know." 

"I know," (Y/N) drawled, unsure despite the fact she knew Sarah was telling the truth. "You don't think he'd be annoyed or anything? I know he keeps it all separate from me for a reason, so I don't want to make him upset." 

Sarah leveled her gentle gaze on (Y/N)'s face. "I think he does it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. It's different than drinking wine with him and things like that, so I bet he just doesn't want to scare you." 

(Y/N) shook her head, "He couldn't scare me, though. He's too nice." 

"To you," Sarah clarified, her smile soft and teasing, "You know he just worries about you and all of that. You wouldn't upset him if you wanted to know more about anything he does."

He did love teaching and showing her things, she knew that. 

"I'll think about it," (Y/N) settled.

"Good," Sarah smiled, grabbing her stacks of folded laundry, "Is dinner ready?" 

"Almost," (Y/N) chirped, adding a little bit of extra seasoning to the pot, "I just need to add the noodles. It'll probably be ready by the time you're done putting everything away." 

Sarah gave a small cheer, stacks of clothing now rehomed in the laundry basket to be returned to her room. "Thank you," she sung, "We should watch that yacht show when we sit down, don't you think?" 

Perking up at the suggestion, (Y/N) quickly nodded her head. "That sounds perfect!" she smiled, mellowing some as she turned her attention to her swirling soup base, "And, thank you for answering everything, by the way. It always helps me." 

"I know, that's why I do it," Sarah settled, reaching out to squeeze (Y/N)'s arm gently before she swept away. 

Left in the silence of the kitchen with only the simmering soup, (Y/N) felt a little bit lighter. Some of her questions were answered even if she had more she wanted to hear from Harry directly. More than anything, she was a little enamored at the idea that Harry was loving and lazy under the influence. She already had a small idea given that she had seen how easy and bubbly he became when he drank, but she'd never seen him really slow down the way she pictured it in her head. 

She wanted to see just how lovey he became, if she was being honest. She already had the privilege of experiencing the affectionate side of him, she wondered just how much higher that volume would be kicked to if he had been smoking. What if he really did have hearts in his eyes?

The thought brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s face.

Maybe, she really would have to ask him. 

—————

"What are you thinking for dinner, my love?" 

(Y/N) puckered her lips to reciprocate the small kiss Harry gave her as he traipsed by the couch. Her eyes followed the broad of his back as her made his way towards the kitchen. With her hands folded on the arm of the sofa, she rested her cheek on her forearm, kicking her legs up behind her as she watched him.

"Whatever you want, I'm okay with," she told him, voice soft and easy. 

"Yeah?" he prodded, looking over his shoulder as he washed his hands in the sink, "Even if I didn't feel like making dinner tonight and decided to order sushi instead?" 

"Sushi?" (Y/N) bubbled, "From the new place?" 

Harry nodded, dimples thumbed into his cheeks. "I figured we could try it out tonight, if that was alright." 

"Yes, please," she beamed, her grin only widening when came around to join her in the common area after drying his hands. 

His lip ring bobbled as he matched her smile, using a gentle hand to push a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Why don't you pull up the website for us while I put my sketches away, and find what y'like. Then we'll order, yeah? 

Despite the long hours he worked at the shop this past weekend, he looked as gorgeous as ever to (Y/N). He lacked eyeliner after wiping it off as soon as he made it home, but his eyes were still the star of the show against his creamy skin. A fresh bee tattoo stood out on the column of his throat, the mosaic wings following the line of his jaw amongst the rose bush filler he had inked across the skin. With the way he stood over her, she got the perfect view of his spiraling curls and the cut planes of his face complete with his glimmering nose stud and lip ring. 

She nodded her head in a lovey daze. "I can do that." 

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her. He dipped to her level to press a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, moving away to gather the art supplies he was working with, "I'll be right back." 

Pulling out her phone, (Y/N) searched up the restaurant up while her mind was still on Harry. 

While the questions she had for him were still in the back of her mind, it was too easy to become distracted with him. They weren't apart for a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but even spending a long, four-day weekend away from one another allowed enough fondness to grow between them to keep her mind from wandering very far from what was right in front of her. Besides, Harry barely let her get a word in since she stepped foot in his home, having tugged her to his bedroom with his lips pressed to hers, only breaking for breath. 

She'd ask him at some point, she was sure. If she had the mind to after dinner. 

Browsing through the menu for a few minutes, (Y/N) found the rolls she was interested in, picking things she had a feeling Harry would like and finding other little gems on the website that she would mention in hopes of getting his opinion on. She searched through the site, trying to find an option to order online with no luck, the browser rerouting her to the main page every time she tried to plug into the ordering site. 

"H?" she called, realizing he still hadn't come back from resetting his utensils. 

"Yes?" he answered back, still in the bedroom, "What do y'need, love?" 

Instead of responding, she stood from the couch and moved towards his room, brows knitted and phone screen bright in her hand. "The website isn't working—it won't let me order," she explained, stepping over the threshold to his room. 

Lifting her head, she saw him standing at his dresser, back to the door with his head angled down and hands fiddling across the top of his dresser. He looked over his shoulder at her, his hands slowing. 

"Give me a second, and I'll take a look," he told her, "I'm still cleaning up—forgot I left some things out." 

"Oh?" she sounded, stepping towards him with her phone being slid back into her pocket, "Do you want any help?" 

Growing close enough, she peered around him to see what he was working on. Instead of spotting the graphite and colored pencils she figured she'd find, she instead saw tiny green buds splaying across the wooden surface with a pair of loose pieces of thin paper and a tall black canister. Harry worked quickly to clean up the mess, majority of the green flakes having been scooped up and replaced in the container though he was struggling to wrangle the remains back into their container. 

"'S alright," he murmured, shifting just enough to cut her view of the space, "'M almost done." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she rocked on her heels as she stayed put. Before she could think better of her words, they were already spilling from her mouth: 

"Is that weed?" 

She cringed at the sound of her voice wrapping around something so outside of her vocabulary. It sounded better in her head.

Harry's hands slowed, stilling before he looked over his shoulder at her. A sliver of his workspace was once again revealed at the small shifting. 

"What was that?" he pressed, his question seemingly heavy between the two of them. 

She said the wrong thing, didn't she? (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his, settling on the new bumblebee on his neck instead. 

"I ask if that was your... you know," she trailed off, hating the sound of her floundering almost more than just saying the word outright, "That's weed, right?" 

Feeling Harry's gaze trail over her, (Y/N) tried not to squirm. 

"It is, yeah," he muttered, "I didn't realize I left it out. 'M sorry."

Darting her eyes up to match his once more, she tipped her head to the side. "Why are you sorry?" 

Turning away from the dresser entirely, Harry faced her directly. He gave her a small shrug. "I don't like leaving it out when you're here. I meant to clean it up before y'came over, but I forgot." 

"You know I don't mind," she reminded him, "You don't have to be sorry." 

A gentle smile curled his lips, only a single dimple in his cheeks as he looked at her. 

"Thank you, love," he started, "Let me clean up, I'll wash m'hands again, and then I'll—" 

"What does it feel like?" 

(Y/N) could feel her skin simmering in embarrassment as her tumbling question fell from her mouth before she had a chance to police the words. Everything she had been too distracted to ask him came flooding back then, unable to be stopped now that she saw the opportunity. 

"Sorry," she peeped, realizing how abruptly she had cut him off.

He waved her off, "'S alright." He watched her with attentive eyes, catching each of her expressions and minute movements. "What does what feel like?" 

There was no going back now, she figured. 

"Being high," she peeped, "What does it feel like?" 

While he didn't seem to understand where her line of questioning was coming from, or understood her sudden curiosity in his private hobby, he didn't dissect any further. 

Harry rolled his neck, pursing his lips. "It's different for everyone," he started, much the same as Sarah had, "It depends on the kind you smoke, too." 

"But what does it feel like for you?" she rattled off, her words coming quick. Her hands were a busy bundle at her waistline, looking at him with curious eyes. 

A small tug on the corner of his lip had a lopsided smile sparking on his mouth. "It depends, like I said, on what kind, but I usually like it best when m'hands hurt. It helps numb it long enough for the cramping to go away," he mused, "But, other than that, it makes me tired—but not enough to sleep. I jus' want to do nothing but sit and eat. I also get very touchy; lots of cuddling with pillows and whining about not being with you." 

He had to have known that his last comment would get her lips splitting into a sheepish smile, (Y/N) dropping her head to fix her gaze at their feet. It was still a little wild to her that Harry thought about her as often as she did him, even when she wasn't right in front of him.

"You feel like that every time?" 

"Mostly, yeah," he shared, "Sometimes I feel like sketching, or I fall asleep right away. Back when Mitch and I would go out a lot, I used to be really hyper—doing stupid shit because I wasn't afraid of anything. I've definitely calmed down since then." 

"Oh," she sounded. (Y/N) couldn't imagine Harry being reckless, getting himself into trouble that way—but, this was the same man that apparently received his first tattoo at a mechanic's garage by a very amateur artist. He was capable of anything, she guessed. 

"Why do you want to know, love?" he asked, tipping his head with a spiral of his curl falling over his shoulder. 

She attempted to act as nonchalant as possible, giving a shrug of her shoulders despite her lips being rolled between her teeth. "I don't know," she answered, "I've just been thinking about it, I guess." 

"Yeah? Is that all y'wanted to know?" 

While there had to have been hundreds of questions that could come to mind, everything from what he and Sarah meant when they specified reactions were based on the strain or kind of weed that was being consumed, to what skunks vs. dank meant when it came to the herb, she didn't know where to start. Though there was one thing she was wanting to know, beyond just the details of what it would be like to see a clingy, lovey Harry. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush before she could rethink them.

Harry's gaze was warm on her face as he examined her. Amusement sparked in his eyes. 

"I don't know, but I have a feeling you'd be a little bit like Mitch," he explained, "I think you'd be excited about everything. But, I'd hope you'd be a little like me just because I like the idea of you being clingy and warm, too." 

She liked that idea, too. It was easier this time to add herself to the picture of Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, superimposing herself at Harry's side with her own hearts in her eyes and her hands tangled with his. (They could sneak kisses, too, if she caught the bug of no fear like he used to have).

"Could—Can I—... I think I want to try, if that's alright," she stuttered, unable to find the right words before just letting something roll off her tongue. 

Harry's silence was heavy between them, the lilypad of his irises setting on her. "You want to try smoking?" 

Starting with a soft nod, she tried to find that reckless bubbling that had carried her this far. "I think so, yeah." A beat passed. "If that's alright." 

When he didn't immediately say anything, she chanced a peek up at him to find his eyes fixed on her, gentle and melting as he took her in. He opened his arms for her when he caught her eye, his features softened and warm. "C'mere." 

(Y/N) all but fell into his arms, his chest warm and solid under her cheek. She looped her arms around his middle, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into him. He worked like a shot of lavender incense and chamomile tea for her, the perfect thing to settle her in moments like these. 

His hand spanned over the planes of her back, fingertips massaging the knots of muscle and ladder of her spine. He rubbed over her form in a soothing circuit between her shoulder blades, his opposing hand an anchoring weight on her waist. 

"Y'really want to try it out, love?" he prodded her gently, his voice rumbling under her cheek. 

"I think so," she mumbled, finding it easier to speak now that she was there to hold her instead of watch her.

"When did y'decide that?" 

"The other day, I think," she explained, "After we talked on the phone." 

He hummed, the sound reverberating in her ear. "What made y'think y'wanted to try something like this?" 

Harry always liked to talk her through things like this, she found. It made it easier for him to understand her thought process, he'd said, helping him be honest with her if he worried she was making a choice that might hurt her later. He never lacked patience when it came to guiding her through new experiences. 

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I just want to know what it's really like. I've only seen a couple of movies and read a few books, but I want to know what it would feel like for me. I don't think it could be so bad if you like it." 

Nosing at her hair, she could feel the smile that had spread across his lips. "'M not always the smartest though, baby. You know that." 

She let out a small laugh at his griping. "I know, but I trust you. If you really don't think it would be good for me, I know you would tell me." 

A pause settled between them. 

"You don't feel like you have to, right? Jus' because 's something I do sometimes, I don't expect you to feel comfortable with it or want to do it with me." 

"I know," she responded, voice resolute, "I just want to try it at least once. If I don't like it or anything like that, I won't do it again." 

After a lingering moment, Harry drew her away from him, peering down at her with a soft gaze. "If you're sure, then we can try it whenever y'want. Jus' let me help you, and I'll be there." 

An impulsive flicker lit through her system. She was on a roll, why stop now? 

"Can we try it tonight?" 

Harry looked at her with widened eyes. "Tonight?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head. "I don't have class until the afternoon tomorrow," she started, a plan coming together, "Do you have to go in early tomorrow?"

His smile was lopsided as he shook his head, likely following where she was going with this. "No, I don't." 

"We could stay up, then," she rattled off, "I could try tonight, and if anything goes wrong we can sleep in a little in the morning." 

Amusement filtered through his gaze. "I didn't know we were having a sleepover," he teased her, dipping his head until his nose nudged against hers, "Y'want to stay the night with me, baby?" 

Her skin hummed as (Y/N) fought the urge to hide herself in his neck. (She acted as if he hadn't been fingers deep in her just a few hours prior, their mouths welded together and her legs around his waist)." 

"Harry," she whined, curling her fists in his t-shirt to keep from pulling away, "I'm trying to be serious." 

"I know," he crooned, tipping his chin to peck a soft kiss to her pouted lips, "And, 'm listening. We can try it out tonight, if y'really want to. But, I think we should eat first, yeah?" 

"Yeah," she repeated, giving a slight nod of her head, "I still need help with the website, though."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away, "Since I don't really need to clean up anymore, let me take a look." 

With that, (Y/N) handed him her phone, telling him about the confusion she felt with the links and the rerouting and all, but her mind was somewhere else. Flicking her gaze around his shoulder, she saw the mess he was leaving out for them to take care of later. The small green buds sparked that familiar kind of nervous excitement that she'd grown accustomed to when it came to new things Harry was planning on teaching her. 

She just hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

—————

"What did you think, love? Good, right?" 

Taking their dirty utensils—including the pink chopsticks he gifted her for Valentines—Harry spoke over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

(Y/N) sat pliantly on the couch, tummy full of the variety of sushi rolls they sampled for the night, along with a new favorite miso soup that she was surely going to be craving as the week went on. "So good. I think my favorite is still the spicy salmon one with that seaweed salad on top." 

Harry laughed from where he stood, surely remembering the way she had practically taken that roll for herself, hoarding the pieces to allow only one bite for him. "I really liked that one, too. We'll have to go back again soon, yeah?" 

"Yes, please," she chirped, looking over the back of the couch as he made his return. 

While the food was a delicious distraction for the night, (Y/N) had still marinated in the idea of what would be coming once she finished and they were settling for the night. The mess he'd left on his dresser was waiting for them, loose papers and all. 

"Ready?" he asked, coming to stand at the end of the sofa.

Was she? She wasn't sure, honestly. But that uncertainty was outweighed by the curiosity and bubbly jitters she had since Harry had agreed to help her. 

Before she had a chance to answer and take his hand, Harry spoke up again, "Jus' to get ready for bed first, baby." 

"Oh," she sounded, nothing more intelligent coming to mind at the moment, "Um, yeah. Then we'll...?" 

He cracked a smile at her hesitancy to name the activity that she had brought up. "Yes, we'll do that afterwards. You'll probably feel more comfortable in some pajamas and your face clean." 

Though she felt a bit silly at the way she had built up a moment that hadn't quite arrived yet, she understood his logic. Besides, if she turned out to be like Sarah, she wouldn't beat herself up in the morning if she did all of her skincare now, and not when she was already inches from sleep.

Taking Harry's hand, she followed after him as he led her to his bedroom, a small duffle bag of hers that stayed here was already sitting by the bathroom door. A change of clothes, and minis of her most essential skincare needs were packed away inside, making it easy for her to spend the night impulsively when she wanted to. 

(Just then, the reminder that she wouldn't be confined to a single bag when they moved in together made her more giddy than before. Soon, she'd be sharing a whole closet with him, a bathroom, and a home. She couldn't wait).

(Y/N) went through the motions of getting unready with Harry standing behind her in the mirror. More often than not, as she brushed her teeth or patted a balm into her skin, her eyes wandered to his reflection. Once or twice, when she was caught, he gave her a sly smile with glimmering eyes. But, when he didn't catch her, his attention on his own task, she was left to allow her mind to gill with imagination. 

She was reminded as she ran her eyes along the cut of his jaw, the plants of his features, and the high points in-between, that he would be stepping behind the lavender veil with her. His previous conversation with her had only revolved around her and what she wanted out of this experience, straying her mind away from the fact that he was going to be a part of the package. 

What would he look like with smoke pluming from his mouth? Would his lilypad eyes go glazed and red? She wondered if his hands would feel any different gliding over her skin, if his lips would still feel as pillowy against hers. 

The thought had her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile forming around the toothbrush between her lips. 

Harry finished before her, stepping out of the bathroom to give her privacy to change into her pajamas. "I'll wait for you out here," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 

Closing the door behind himself, she was left alone with the chilled tile under her socked feet. Glancing at the mirror, (Y/N) found herself fresh-faced with wide eyes and a slight swell to her lips from the amount of times she rolled them between her teeth. Blinking, she wondered if she would look any different to Harry after she pulled the smoke into her lungs. 

It was with rushed hands that she dressed into her sleep clothes (really nothing more than a pair of tiny shorts she would inevitably kick off in the night, and a shirt she had stolen so long ago from Harry that it was hers now), almost slipping her top on backwards before she righted herself in the mirror. Stepping out of the washroom with her laundry being dropped atop her duffle for later, (Y/N) saw Harry once again at his dresser.

This time, he looked to her with an easy smile, his hands working over the surface before him.

"Better?" he smiled, lip ring bobbing. 

"Mhm," she hummed, moving towards him in slow strides, "What are you doing?" 

Turning back to face his hands, he told her, "Jus' getting our things ready. Do you want to watch?" 

A pinch creased her brows as she went towards him. Peering around his shoulder, she saw him working with one of the loose papers from before and a small pile of crushed up greenery. 

"What do you have to do?" (Y/N) only had a vague idea of what all went into preparing for a session like this. 

Smiling down at her, his ministrations slowed now that her attention was placed on his hands. He sidestepped just enough to allow her an unobstructed view of his work. "I figured we'd stick with a joint this first time, so I've got to roll one up for us to use." 

Looking at it now, while she didn't have much knowledge of any of this, she could see familiar pieces forming. The paper would be rolled and twisted with the bud inside, Harry flickering a lighter at the end like a cigarette when it was ready.

"How do you do that?" she muttered, stepping that much closer, feeling as if she were a child pressing their nose against the glass separating them from gallons of ice cream. 

A huffed laugh fell from his lips then. Lifting his arm up, he beckoned her to stand between his chest and the dresser. "C'mere." 

Slipping into the small space he freed for her, the heat of his chest could be felt against her back. Though she caught whiffs of it before, now the herby, earthy smell of the bud was right at her nose, wafting through the air and clinging to her skin. Right in front of her, Harry worked around her, his fingers deftly working through his supplies. 

"First," he started, "You've got to keep the paper flat out and put one of the filters at the end." She watched as he pulled a tiny white piece from the canister, setting it at the middle of one of the short ends of the paper. He kept it stable when he reached for the ground up weed that he had piled in the lid to the container, a small mound he pinched at before sprinkling the chunks in a line across the paper. "We've got to fill it up enough so there's not any air bubbles between," he explained as he worked, his arms hovering above her shoulders as he created their joint with the ease of experience. "This part’s always a little hard for me," he told her, to her surprise. 

"What do you mean?" He could have fooled her.

"'S hard to pack it in like this," he elaborated, his voice dull as he concentrated, "M'fingers are too big, so I've got to be extra careful that I don't mess it up." 

Honing her gaze in on his digits, she had to keep herself from tipping her head to the side and falling victim to the sight. She could see it then, she figured, watching as he tried to pat everything as tightly and precisely as possible. His fingers definitely were too big. 

"Oh," she sounded. 

A breathy laugh came from behind her, the exhale twisting through the hair on the top of her head. "Would y'do something for me, love?" he asked, finally packing enough in as tightly as he could before he started folding the ends of the thin paper. 

She gave a nod, now too transfixed on his hands to speak with an even tone. 

"Would you give this a lick for me?" he asked, "We've gotta seal it up before I can twist it all up." 

"Like, the paper?" she clarified, eyeing the open flap he was presenting to her with the joint grasped carefully between his fingers. 

Harry hummed a confirmation. "There's glue on this edge like an envelope. Gotta make it sticky, then I can close it up for us."

"Um, okay," she muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wrist as he brought the almost-joint to her lips. 

Parting her mouth, she swiped the tip of her tongue along the very edge of the paper. It didn't taste quite as artificially sweet as a regular envelope, but then again, everything was coated in that dusky scent that the herb folded inside held. 

"Thank you, baby," he told her, pulling the joint from her lips as he did the closing motion of sealing the edge to the roll. She watched as he did the final step, twisting down the free edge into a tight swirl before he presented it with the filtered end between his fingertips. "All done." 

In front of (Y/N) was the stereotypical joint that she had seen in the few films that showed as much. The paper was translucent in the way that she could clearly see it was filled from the inside with dark, green flakes. The filtered edge was tapered down into a small funnel, leaving the head of the roll trumpeting out, thick with the ground up weed. 

"That was fast," (Y/N) muttered, wanting to reach out and touch, but too scared. 

"I've gotten pretty good, I can't lie," he joked with her, pressing his lips to the back of her head. A paused settled again before he spoke to her, his head still dipped down as he murmured, "Y'still feeling alright, darling? Still want to, or do y'want to go to bed and watch a movie instead?" 

Examining the joint in front of her, the thick scent of the weed surrounding her with the heat of Harry's chest at her back, she nodded her head. "I still want to." 

Dropping an arm to wrap around her waist from behind, Harry hugged her to him for a moment. "Grab a jacket then, and we'll go out back for a second, yeah?" 

"Outside?" she asked, turning in his hold. 

"Don't want it stinking up the house, right?" He looked at her with a raised brow, already stepping towards the closet in search of his own coat. "We'll be fast, baby, 's alright." 

(Y/N) supposed he was onto something, realizing that she had never been struck by the heavy scent like she would figure if he had smoked in his bedroom. As long as no one complained, it wasn't a bad idea to head outback for a second. It would be nice to take in deep breaths in between the smoke too, she figured. 

With a set of slippers on her feet, and a thick hoodie on her body, she followed Harry out the back door, ending on the back patio. He sat on the stoop at her feet, patting the space next to him. 

"Warm enough?" he asked, moonlight waning above their heads. 

Snuggling closer to his side, she nodded her head. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you warm?" 

Despite the unzipped jacket on his form and the thin t-shirt underneath, Harry gave her a small smile. "'M good, baby." 

Flicking out a lighter and the joint from his pocket, he sparked the flame with a flick of his fingers. 

He ran the spark over the trumpeted tip of the joint, his face warming in the firelight glow. "We'll take it easy tonight, yeah?" he murmured, concentration on his hands, "I don't think it'll take much to get y'there, so we probably won't finish this but we'll save the rest for another time if you want." 

She watched as he rotated the edge of the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip. "Are you not going to have any?" 

"I will," he assured her, "But, I want to make sure I can take care of you. I won't be having too much." 

Having a deja vu moment, (Y/N) was reminded of how it felt to be sitting in his lap as he fed her wine, keeping his own head clear while he let her run wild. 

With the end of the joint glowing a warm orange, Harry put the lighter away. He ashed the very tip away, revealing cool lavender smoke twisting through the air with a heady scent clinging to the particles. 

"Want the first go?" he asked, tipping the roll towards her in an offer. 

"No, no," she answered immediately, "You first." 

His smile was lopsided as he agreed, pulling the joint to his mouth. She watched as he tucked the filtered end between his lips, taking in a shallow inhale with the fiery end glowing to life. His chest expanded as he inhaled. He only pulled the roll away from his lips when his chest was puffed with smoke, a lingering second passing before he exhaled, plumes of dancing smoke drifting through the air. The heavy, thick aroma of the weed surrounded them. 

(Y/N) couldn't pull her eyes from him as the smoke seeped from between his lips, a thin, violet filter hazing his features. The moon above seemed to catch each particle, drowning the scene in cool toned shades, muted and closed. 

She waited for something to change in the way he looked, the way he acted. When the only thing he did was turn to her with a blink, once again offering the joint to her for a try, she wasn't sure what she had expected. 

"Do y'think y'can do that?" 

Her brows creased. "Do what?" 

Amusement molded his features as he tipped his chin towards his offering. "Taking a hit," he stated, "Inhaling, and everything." 

"I-I think so," she answered, carefully pulling the roll from his fingers. She hesitated before taking it to her lips, nervous to replicate his actions while he watched. "Do you feel any different?" 

His smile was warm as he shook his head. "No—probably won't be too different tonight. I've built my tolerance pretty high, so I'll be fine." 

"Oh," she sounded, feeling the slightest bit disappointed knowing that she wouldn't get the full experience of seeing him for what he was under the influence. Maybe sometime she could convince him to let it go. Focusing back on the joint, she stared intensely at the thin ribbon of smoke falling from the tip. "How do I inhale?" 

"Jus' breathe in, baby," Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tucked her against his side, warming her through her layers. "Only take a little bit at a time, though. And, if y'need to cough, jus' let it happen. You'll be alright." 

Though it was only a few tiny rules, it felt like so much to remember, to keep track of while she was trying something so foreign.

"Wh-What if I take too much?" she muttered, worrying now the longer that she let it keep burning. She hoped she wasn't wasting everything he'd done for her. 

Harry paused, rolling her question around his head before answering. "You'll be alright," he assured her, "Jus' don't want you to take too much, or anything, that's all." 

The idea of taking too much scared her more than the other rules. She didn't know what too much was; how would she know if there was too much in her lungs, how would she know if she needed to pull back? 

"Can you help me?" she murmured, worry lacing through her tone. 

"I can hold it for you if you want?" he offered, though his option didn't seem so concrete as she had hoped. 

"You can't do more?" 

A small silence sat between them when he didn't answer right away. She looked to him, finding him looking at the joint between her fingers with a contemplative crease between his brows. 

"I might have an idea that we can try," he started, flicking his gaze to match hers. "Y'trust me, right?" 

Her nod was immediate. 

A small smile folded his lips as he took the joint from her hand. He brought the roll to his lips, taking in another deep inhale with his eyes fluttering as his chest expanded. The cherry brightened as he pulled in the smoke. As soon as he pulled it away from his mouth, he spoke to her in a muddled voice, a small streak of smoke escaping through his nose. 

"C'mere." 

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out in confusion. She was already right here, right?

The arm Harry had thrown across her shoulders slithered around her form until his palm came to a cradle on her cheek. He pressed forward then, his lips parting just enough for (Y/N) to get the hint. 

He wanted to kiss her.

Fluttering her eyelids to a close, she leaned forward in an attempt to meet him halfway. Harry, with his hand on her cheek, stopped her short, a small distance left between them. 

With her eyes opening to slits, she found him looking to her with his own gaze trained on her lips. His tender hand on her cheek shifted until his thumb was resting in the full of her bottom lip. Tugging just slightly, he parted her pout into a small gape. Harry ripped his head, leaning just that much closer with his pursed lips. 

(Y/N) held her breath, her own mouth parted open as she felt soft plumes of smoke fan over her lips. His lips just barely grazed her own, pressing against the soft pillows as the smoke ghosted over her tongue, heady and thick.

Pulling away just enough with smoke still twirling around his features, he told her, "Breathe in, baby." 

His voice was still heavy in his throat, emulating the way he spoke in the morning. The detail gave (Y/N) something to focus on as she instinctually closed her mouth as if biting down, the smoke now contained to a thin veil between them. He kept his hand steady on her cheek as she inhaled the way she saw him do, her chest bloating as she filled her lungs with the gifted smoke. 

While she didn't feel the burning in her chest that she thought would accompany the smoke, she instead felt a thick heat in the back of her throat. She tried to mimic what she had seen Harry do, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling, but she couldn't keep up when she felt her eyes begin to water. 

Unable to handle it much longer, (Y/N) released her breath in clumsy pants, embarrassed to be reacting so intensely right in Harry's face. Though, all he did was stay steady in his spot by her, thumbing at her chin and coaxing her through it. 

Tipping her head down, she finally coughed into her sleeve, eyes watering as she went with his hand falling to the slope of her neck. 

"'S alright, baby, jus' let it out," he murmured, his voice a gentle soothe, "You'll feel better in a second, love." 

By the time she regained her breath, there was a slight glaze over the back of her throat—not quite a tingle, but not entirely normal. Harry tipped his head down by then, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with his palm spanning the shelf of her collarbones. 

"Y'alright?" he murmured, ever patient when he pulled away to match her eyes. 

Nodding her head, (Y/N) swallowed around her odd throat. "Was that alright?" she croaked, wet bottom lashes grazing the height of her cheekbone.

A fond smile molded Harry's features into soft curves. "Y'did jus' fine, lovebug. So proud of you for not getting scared," he praised her, thumb running over her warm skin, "Feels a little weird doesn't it?" 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she nodded her head, watching as he ashed the joint they had probably let burn for just a touch too long. "Really weird," she told him earnestly, "My throat feels funny, but that's all so far."  

"Yeah? Want to keep going?" His eyes skated over her features, taking in every reaction, every minute stretch of her muscles. 

While she was sure there was something that would hit soon, she still felt comfortable enough to take a little more from him. (Y/N) answered with a small nod. 

"Same way we did before?"

Remembering the feel of his lips glancing across hers, the faint brush of the tip of his nose over hers, she could feel her skin simmering. "Yeah," she answered, hoping he thought the breathy quality of her voice was a lingering side effect of her coughing. 

He didn't look entirely fooled when that sly smile touched his lips. "Alright," he said, bringing the joint back up to his lips, "We'll do a couple more, then I think you're done, baby. That alright?" 

"That's alright," she murmured, "Thank you." 

This time, watching him taking in the long drag, (Y/N) knew what to expect when he turned to her. She allowed him to hover close enough that he was almost kissing her as he blew out another plume of smoke for her to inhale. When she took her time filling her lungs with the smoke, Harry tipped his head and smeared his lips over her cheek, kissing down her neck. 

She had more confidence this go around, coaxing herself through as Harry held her. That thick feeling in the back of her throat intensified as she closed her eyes, her chest expanding under her borrowed hoodie. 

"Doing good, baby," he murmured into her ear, pulling away to match her gaze, "Go ahead and breathe out, love. I think you're good." 

Following his direction, the lavender smoke twirled between them. Sucking in clean air, she filtered out her lungs. This time around, opening up her eyes to look up at the moonlight and the stars blinking over the inky canvas, things felt different. There was a bit of lethargy to her movements, even in the darting of her gaze. Her limbs felt as if there was extra weight attached, something heavy that slowed her before she even had a chance to move.

It was an odd feeling, something that she'd never experienced before or had anything of comparison to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She'd even say she liked it so far.

Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that she was edging into new territory as he watched over her, eyes sparking from amusement. "One more?" 

"Yeah," she settled, her lips feeling looser the more she sunk into the moment, "One more." 

"Wanna try by yourself?" he asked, taking his own small puff from the joint before he was angling it towards her. 

"Not by myself, no," she argued, still scared to be in charge of her own dosing. 

"I can hold it for you if y'want—take it back when you've had enough," Harry offered, letting a cloud leave his lips as he spoke. 

"Okay," she nodded, taking on his offer. 

"Open," he instructed, setting the filter of the joint between her lips, "Then jus' suck in, okay? You'll be able to feel it in the back of your throat, so stop if you've had enough and I haven't taken it back yet." 

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around the filter, taking in Harry's directions with absent ears. She couldn't imagine he wouldn't be able to catch herself and her intake before he did. 

Emulating what she'd seen from him before, she sucked in, her cheeks hollowing just enough to show off the shape of her cheekbones. The back of her throat warmed, embers igniting in a low burn. This was more than what Harry had given her before, but she didn't mind. This would be just enough,she figured.

At the perfect moment, Harry pulled away prompting her to breathe out the final cloud of smoke. He asked the joint once more, a small pile of grey dust having collected at their feet. 

A few huffed coughs fell from (Y/N)'s lips, unused to the feeling of gathering the smoke directly from the source. Harry wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as she eased through the final intake. 

"How do you feel?" he asked her, voice low under the moonlight. 

Looking around, (Y/N) tried to find the answer to the question. 

It was an odd feeling, she decided. She felt both light and heavy at the same time, her head in the clouds with her body entirely anchored to the ground. Prickles poked at her skin, her limbs their own entity as she brought her hands into a bundle in her lap. 

There was no other way to describe it other than the fact that she felt high. 

"Good," she answered simply, "Different." 

"You'll get used to it, my love," he murmured into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the space just before. 

"Do you feel different?" she asked, her voice heavy in her dry throat. 

"A little," Harry explained, stubbing out the cherry of the joint, "But, I think 's time we get inside before either of us freezes, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, yes."

It was when Harry let out a small huffed laugh that (Y/N) couldn't contain her own laughter. A loud peal fell from her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing. That only made her laugh harder.

—————

"That is so funny," (Y/N) giggled to herself, clenching her hands in the fabric of her top lest she forget they were there. "Harry, did you see that?! It was funny!" 

He was back in the kitchen, working over the stove with a pot of noodles boiling away and a cheesey sauce working on the other burner, leaving (Y/N) to watch this movie all on her own. 

"Which part, baby?" he asked, his rumbling voice sounding farther away than she remembered. 

(Y/N) blinked, watching the brightly colored animated characters go across the television screen. "The one that was just on! With the cat on the piano!" 

How could he not have been paying attention? (Y/N) had never seen something so entertaining before, if she was being honest. This had to be her new favorite movie—she just needed to remember what it was called. 

"Oh," he sounded, "I did see that, sorry, lovebug. It was very funny." 

"Good," she responded absently, craning her neck to look over the back of the couch towards where he stood in the kitchen, "I'm so hungry, H." 

"I know," he laughed, looking at her with his skin seemingly glowing and the smile of a prince. "'M almost done, okay?" 

"How close is ‘almost’?" 

His smile only widened at her line of questioning. (Y/N) mimicked that look without a thought. 

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?" 

"I'll try." She couldn't help the pout that took her features. She had told him she was hungry what felt like hours ago, and she still was waiting for food. He wouldn't even let her help either, but she could argue that she would have eaten already if he just let her follow him to the kitchen.

Raising his brows, Harry fixed his attention back on the television screen. "Oh, look. The little cat is back, baby." 

(Y/N)'s attention took a one-eighty as she did the same to face the TV once more. Harry was right, the kitten was back on screen. She didn't want to miss this. 

The high had hit her at full force only minutes after Harry had taken her inside, setting off a firing squad of so many different feelings (Y/N) had never experienced before. She had so much energy, but at the same time she wanted to sleep. She wanted to kiss and hold her boyfriend, but also had to make a point to remember where her limbs were. She wanted to eat and drink as much water as she could, but couldn't find the attention to do either of those things. In the back of her mind, she even debated on writing some for the course paper she needed to work on before the midterm exam next month—her mind swirling with ideas, but they were all out of order. 

How she decided on watching a movie instead of any of her other raucous ideas, she wasn't sure, but she was happy with the choice. This way, she was able to wrap up in the soft pink throw blanket that she left in his bedroom, sink into the new feeling, and make out with Harry when he was done cooking.

(It had really been Harry's prompting and prodding that led her to the conclusion that yes, she wanted to watch a movie and cuddle up with him while she ate, but he was happy with letting her assume it had been her own choice).

Time moved in mysterious ways since the high had hit, making it hard to decipher if it had been five hours or mere five minutes before Harry came to her with bowls of pasta and a buttery warm sauce poured over top. 

"That looks so good, H," she bubbled, overjoyed at the sight of food, "Thank you so much!" 

"You're welcome, baby," he smiled, "Do you need more water?" 

"No, just—Hold on." (Y/N) stumbled over her words, organizing her thoughts as steadily as she could and ultimately failing in favor of reaching towards Harry.

The second he settled into the cushion at her side, she had his jaw cradled in her palms, lips puckered and pressed against the corner of his mouth. A laugh bubbled through his lips, his smile felt under her kiss. 

"I missed," she laughed along with him, pulling away to watch his eyes light up and creases form around his smile, "Sorry." 

"'S alright," he beamed, cheeks still cradled in her palms, "Jus' slow down and try again." 

Though she didn't exactly have the wherewithal to follow his directions, she definitely tried her best. This time, she felt as if she went slower as she leaned in, pressing her lips to Harry's. He reciprocated her affection in soft kisses, (Y/N) melting the longer she reveled in his touch.

Her skin practically sang everywhere he touched her, taking her back to her wonderings of if there would be something extra to their affection while under the influence. That prickling that she had felt in her limbs just when the smoke started taking effect, now only occurred when he ran his fingertips over her skin or held her hand in his. The buzzing made her smile into the kiss, the pinpoint tickling under her skin.

"What's got you so smiley, hm?" Harry asked against her mouth, pulling away despite the tender hold she had on his cheeks. 

She beamed up at him with an easy grin, a rose colored glaze over her vision of him. "I just like touching you," she told him, "It tickles." 

He raised his brows in reaction, biting back a smile. "It tickles?" 

Watching the clear amusement on his face, (Y/N) couldn't help her own smile from turning into bubbling laughter. "Uh-huh," she barely answered, everything else dissolving around her laughter. 

"Now, why are you laughing?" 

Harry's investigation only proved to make the entire moment funnier to (Y/N) as she doubled over. Snuggling into his chest, she clung to him with her laughter muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know," she giggled, barely sure that the words even left her brain. 

"Oh, lovebug," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her, "What am I going to do with you?" 

A contented smile landed on (Y/N)'s features as she settled down. She burrowed against him, smushing her cheek on his shoulder and bundling her arms between their bodies. "Love me." 

The tip of Harry's nose skimmed the top of her head. "I already do that," he told her, words fanning across the strands of hair crowning her. 

"I love you too," (Y/N) answered simply. 

The cryptic sense of time she held struck once again when Harry drew away from her. Her body had relaxed into his as if she had napped on him for hours, but she could have been nestled in his arms for a max of three minutes for all she knew. 

"Are y'still hungry? Or do y'want me to save your noodles for later?" 

With that, (Y/N) swore her mind had been blown. "You brought me food, I totally forgot!" Twirling too fast for her brain to keep up, she was almost dizzy by the time she saw the bowl of pasta Harry had set in front of her, complete with salty cheese layered on top just like she asked. "That looks so good, H! Thank you." 

Harry gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, baby." 

A minute sense of deja vu niggled in the back of her head for just a second, but (Y/N) chose to ignore it in favor of twirling her fork through the spaghetti noodles.  

Had cheese always tasted this good? 

—————

"Harry, are you listening? This song is beautiful." 

"I know, love. 'S perfect, huh?" 

The drawl of Harry's response had (Y/N) peeking up at him. She found him lying with his eyes closed, mouth parted in a small gape, though his hand on her back never slowed the soothing circle he had curated.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) whispered. 

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth at her question. "A little. Are you?" 

(Y/N) paused, evaluating herself to give him an honest answer. "Yeah. A little." His heartbeat was set to a soothing pace under her ear, slowing into a steady rhythm as if urging him to sleep. "Are you almost asleep?" 

Though she could see his eyes were closed and his breathing was coming in soft puffs, Harry didn't slack on the duties he had taken on for the night. Since pulling her to bed and setting a playlist to softly sing through his bedroom, he had kept his cuddling hold on her firm and anchoring. He answered her every time she spoke to him and even crawled his way to the bedside table to skip the song whenever she started to whine over the melody. 

"A little," he smiled, his voice a deep rumble, "Are you?"

Another pause. "Maybe," (Y/N) answered honestly. She could fall asleep right now if she wanted, but she also wanted to keep listening to music. 

Harry hummed, his chest vibrating under her cheek. "Is there anything y'want before y'get sleepy? More water or a snack?" 

What did she need before she could peacefully fall asleep? 

Blinking her gaze up at him, she took in the tip of his nose, the curving pillow of his cupid's bow and the creamy texture of his skin. 

"A kiss? Please?" 

At that, Harry cracked his eyes open to peer down at her. "Y'haven't had enough of those yet?" 

"Never," she answered, completely honest. Harry still plucked a smile onto his lips at her response. 

"Can't blame you, darling—me neither." 

Shifting between the sheets, Harry used his free hand to cup (Y/N) cheek and tip her chin as he dipped down. He sealed his lips over hers in a loving kiss, nothing more than a soft pressing of their lips. She swore she could feel every ridge, every dip, every plane of his touch, catalogued to her memory though she hoped she would recall it in less fuzzy detail. 

"Love you," she murmured between breaths, immediately planting her lips across his once more. 

Harry smiled into the contact. He broke the rhythm of her kisses even further when he drew away, ignoring the way she chased after him with a craned neck and puckered lips.

"I love you too, lovebug." His eyes scanned over her features not for the first time that night, though something softened in his gaze. "You had a good time tonight?"

Walking through the lavender veiled events, everything was just a bit hazy and herbal, (Y/N)'s smile only grew. 

"Uh-huh," she beamed up at him, feeling herself settle into him that much more, "Thank you for showing me." 

Thumbing at the height of her cheekbone, Harry surged forward to press a delicate kiss to the bridge of her nose. "'M happy y'feel good, darling. That's all I want when we try new things." 

"I'm always happy when I'm with you." 

(Y/N) blinked as she saw his face light up with a bubbly smile, creases appearing by his eyes, dimples thumbed into his cheeks, and a slight flush over his nose. 

Had his smile always been that pretty?

—————

eeeek! so happy I could get a new aster blurb out for everyone this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and lmk if yu have any ideas for anything you'd like to see!

[adorehs]

When You Fall In Love...

so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood

part one, part two, bonus, bonus

Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.

Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.

But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.

[adorehs]

Happy Spooky Season!

i am harry in this, harry is me, y'all will never catch me watching a scary movie. also this feels very professor!yn coded

"Jesus—Fuck!"

Harry flinched at another jump scare, not even trying to be subtle about hiding his face in your shoulder at this point. You tried to stifle your laugh, finding it both cute and amusing that his bravado had lasted all of ten minutes once the plot of the horror movie actually dove into the scary stuff. You offered him your hand, which he took gratefully and held in a tight grip as your eyes stayed glued to the screen in front of you.

"You're doing great, bub."

"I hate it here."

This time you didn't try to hide your chuckle as it bubbled out of you. You kissed the top of his head and squeezed his hand. This was the first time you'd ever watched a horror movie with Harry, every time you happened to watch one during the month of October, he coincidentally made himself scarce, though now you knew it wasn't much of a coincidence. Had you known he hated horror films this much, you never would've made him watch it.

"I can turn it off, babe. It's no problem," you said when he jumped again.

Harry shook his head against your shoulder. "I just didn't realize you were the horror movie type."

You shrugged and paused the movie as you looked around the house. Harry had a point, you supposed. All of your Halloween decorations were more cute than scary, and you bought matching socks with dancing skeletons for you and Harry to wear. The house currently smelled of pumpkin spice from the muffins you made earlier, and you were currently debating on whether you and Harry should be Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo or Antonio Banderas and Catherine Zeta Jones from Zorro.

"I'll watch a few every now and then to get me in the spirit," you said.

"The possessed, murderous spirit?" Harry griped.

Grinning, you switched to a different streaming service and fired up a different film. You could feel Harry visibly relax against you, but he didn't move, deciding to stay nestled against your side. He puckered his lips against your neck, murmuring his thanks before he turned his attention back to the TV.

"As if I could be anything of the sort," you teased.

"I don't know. Might be sleeping with one eye open tonight," Harry said gravely. "I feel like I've discovered a whole different side to you."

"What? No skeletons in your closet?" you asked, pinching his side.

Harry squirmed away from your grip and avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested in the TV now that the horror film was gone. You didn't mind his sudden lack of interest in the conversation, you knew there wasn't much he liked to hide from you. All his little quirks—that you knew of, anyway—were pretty much out in the open. Some people might've preferred a little mystery, but you liked laying your cards on the table. It meant there was a level of trust between you and Harry.

The opening credits of your favorite childhood Halloween movie rolled, and you couldn't help but grin as Harry stayed glued to your side. "Love you," you murmured, kissing the top of his head.

"Love you," he mumbled back. It was the last time the two of you said anything for a while as you remained cuddled up watching a cheesy Halloween movie.

[adorehs]

eating from each others plates plsss 🫶🏼🫶🏼

BEAUTIFUL this is bit of dadrry too actually- I kinda changed it a little by accident but I still hope you enjoy it hehe

Prompt list for these asks

Patreon!

----

It was hard to get a minute alone while being parents.

Y/N and Harry loved their children, don't get it wrong. Being a father had been one of his ultimate life goals and Y/N had fallen in love with motherhood, both of them excited to be at every play, soccer match, doctors visit, the works.

But god, was it nice to have a moment of peace.

The children were finally asleep. It had been the entire routine of homework, bath time, bedtime prep, laying out their outfit for the next day before each of them got a bedtime story. They'd gotten back late from a soccer match and selfishly gotten the kids fast food on the way home because Y/N couldn't even think about cooking.

Her own stomach had growled loudly while cleaning up the kitchen, and Harry had laughed under his breath before giving her an innocent look when she grumbled at him for the action. It was these sort of things, the domestic and somewhat unromantic aspects of having a life partner that had surprised her with how much she loved it.

It was easy. Having Harry around made everything more fun, more bearable even at the tough moments. He had always been a good partner despite their tiffs, and that hadn't seemed to change in their 10 years together.

When he had insisted he finish cleaning while she took a shower, she had finally given in and let the hot water relax her muscles, the lavender body wash aiding in the experience before she applied lotion and pulled on a fresh set of pajamas. That was famously one of Harry's shirts and a pair of shorts that could pass for underwear.

"Made us food." He said as she walked into the kitchen. It was pasta. One plate of pasta. She gave him a look as he walked over to the dining table to place it down next to her glass of wine- has she mentioned she loved him?- and sat on the chair, spreading his thighs before patting his lap. "C'mon, mama. You're sleepy and showered. Let's share."

Y/N simply did as told. Too tired to fight, she collapsed on his lap with a hefty sigh, feeling him scoot the chair further in and bring the fork to her mouth to feed her the first bite. Alfredo pasta. Creamy, rich, and something they'd definitely be having as leftovers tomorrow.

"Guess I did alright?" He laughed at her moan, the clean fork falling back to the plate to get himself a bite.

"Mhm." She confirmed before swallowing, watching as he chewed the food before nodding. Yeah, it was exceptionally good. Out of the both of them, it had always made her grumble that he was the better cook- but now she was reaping the benefits.

"Fuck yeah I did." He nodded, taking a sip of his ginger ale. "Love you too much to let you go to bed hungry. Took care of my babies so well today." He smeared a kiss to the side of her head before feeding her another bite. "So now you'll let me take care of you."

[adorehs]

Wet and Wild*

Summary: The one where Harry is on the swim team, and there's just something about your jeans that always seems to distract him.

Word Count: 1.6k

(AN: LISTEN...WE KNEW THIS WAS COMING I couldn't resist 😭 It's super short but I love this man and his big bear body so...this is my attempt at remedying my grief 🙃)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Harry…get out of the goddamn pool.”

“No.”

“Harry—”

“Make me.”

Your eyes narrow as you stare at the infuriatingly stunning man swimming closer to you. His curls are soaked and dripping down into his eyes, making his lashes appear that much bigger. And he’s grinning up at you in that cheesy, gleeful way that always makes your stomach flip. Even when you're trying to be mad at him.

“We’re gonna be late,” you remind him, glancing toward the large clock on the building’s wall. “You were supposed to be finished an hour ago.”

“Sorry. Lost track of time,” he calls, bobbing one shoulder up as he comes to a stop near where you stand on the concrete. “And I needed the extra practice.”

“Why? Your form is perfect.”

His head shakes. “It’s the way I land. It’s not as smooth as I’d like it to be and I’m losing more seconds than I should.”

Sighing, you crouch down. “You push yourself too hard.”

“Not that hard,” he argues with a smirk, peering up at you with bloodshot eyes. “But it’s really helped my breaststroke.”

“Your breaststroke was already perfect.”

“Well, now it’s 0.7 seconds more perfect.”

You laugh. “Harry…it’s time to get out. Your fingers are pruning and my parents are gonna be pissed if we’re late.”

“We’re already late,” he retorts, resting his arms near your shoes. “What’s a few more minutes?”

“Harry—”

“What? It’s just so nice in here. I think you’d like it.”

“I’m sure I would but I’m in my good jeans so—”

“So…what?”

“So I didn’t bring a bathing suit and therefore cannot get in.”

“You can wear mine.”

You glance down at the dark green trunks around his hips and smirk. “Uh-huh. And then what would you wear?”

His only response is a devious grin.

“Harry,” you laugh again. “Okay, all right. Stop being cheeky and get out already, will you? We’re the only ones left in here and it’s kind of creepy.”

“Fine,” he concedes, sighing a bit as he extends his arm toward you. “Help?”

You nod and lace your fingers with his to help tug the large man out of the pool.

However, just as you’re beginning to lift him up into the air, he yanks on your wrist, and pulls you down.

You’re propelled toward the water, disappearing beneath the surface with a large splash until you’re completely submerged. In fact, you barely have time to shriek before you realize his plan, quickly sucking in a large gasp for air before you go under.

Harry’s hands never leave you, making sure to guide you back up after only a few seconds so you don't panic. Yet even before you've made it up, you can hear him laughing.

“Oh, you prick,” you gasp once you’ve broken free, rubbing the droplets from your eyes. "God, I should have known."

“Sorry,” he says, but it's void of any actual regret. “Couldn’t resist.”

“I just told you these are my good jeans.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” he argues as you swim a few feet away from him with a pout. “I had to.”

“Oh, you had to, huh?”

“I did.”

“And why is that?”

The corner of his mouth curls up in a sneaky smile. “Well…because I couldn’t exactly get out.”

Your brows furrow. “And why not?”

With a rather salacious gleam, he reaches out and loops his arms around your torso, effortlessly pulling you closer again until your bodies connect.

And it’s then that you understand, the feel of something hard against your inner thigh making you gasp. 

“Oh,” you breathe, lashes fluttering as you glance over his face. “I, uh…I see.”

“Mhm.” He’s much too smug as he guides your right leg to wrap around his hip. “S’just something about these fucking jeans that always does me in, baby.”

It’s a teasing comment, perhaps meant to goad you, but you feel that familiar but prominent ache begin to spark between your thighs.

“The way your ass looks,” he whispers, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “The way your thighs look. The way they hug your body in such a perfect fucking way.”

Your hands slip around the back of his neck, and you swallow a rather intrigued whimper. “Har…”

“So…I had to,” he says again, pressing his palm to your spine until your chest is flush with his. “Couldn’t get out and see you like that. Not without doing something about it first.”

You begin to grind down against his cock, all common sense flying out the window at the feel of friction even through the water. “We…they’re gonna close soon. They’re…we have to go.”

But his head merely shakes. “Talked to Patrick. He left me the key so I can lock up. Got the whole pool to ourselves, baby.”

You glance around the large, empty space almost with suspicion before looking back to the devilish man holding you up. “But…my parents—”

“What are they gonna do? We already missed the reservation.” He presses his mouth to the side of your throat, sucking his name into your wet skin. “What’s a few more minutes, hm?”

“It’s never just a few with you,” you remind him through a strained sigh, and you feel him grin.

“Touché,” he hums before you feel his hand leave your back and fall to your jeans. “Then at least let me have a quick taste, hm? Just wanna feel you around me for one minute, baby.”

Biting back a groan, you slowly rock yourself into his touch, nodding quickly. “Fine. Just one. One minute, Harry. I’m counting.”

He’s amused by the challenge, agreeing to your stipulations by yanking down the zipper and slipping his fingers into the crotch of your panties to pull them aside. 

In turn, you reach for his swim trunks, easily tugging them out of the way until you can take hold of his cock and bring him closer.

It’s a bit difficult to see through the water, but you’ve done this at least a hundred times before. In fact, you imagine you could do this blindfolded.

And you have.

He slides inside slowly, grunting to himself at the feel of your warmth and wetness. He knew you’d be ready for him. Knew even before you did that you were needy for him. Somehow, he always knows, and it surprises you every time.

But perhaps that’s just his power.

Once you’re fully sat on him, you readjust your grip, and glance at the clock. The sixty-seconds begin as Harry starts the slow thrusts into your cunt, creating ripples and waves that carry across the pool.

“There you go,” he exhales shakily, lips once again buried into your wet skin. “Fucking perfect, baby. Take me so well. Squeezin’ me like a goddamn angel, y’know that?”

You whimper his name and pull his attention back for a kiss. Greedily sucking on his tongue while he kneads your ass in his hand and rolls you over his cock.

Your fingers run down his painted chest. Reveling in the feel of the hard muscles that quiver beneath your touch. He’s always been rather muscular, but swimming has sculpted his body in ways you hadn’t imagined.

He’d be just as beautiful without his abs. But in moments like this, you like to appreciate them.

“How we doin’, baby, hm?” he asks, working himself in at a quicker pace, despite the friction of the water. He doesn’t mind the extra strain it causes to his body or the way the water laps up against the concrete and spills out of the pool. He plans to make the most of this minute you’ve allowed him, and you don’t doubt that he will.

“Thirty seconds,” you tell him, barely able to see the time through the hazy look in your eye. “Shit…feels so good, Har—”

“I know,” he coos, the pretty, dark hairs of his brows furrowed in concentration. “Don’t think I’ll make it to thirty seconds.”

And you smile lazily, nuzzling closer until you can trail your lips along the scratchy hairs on his cheek. “S’okay. Just wanna feel you.”

He makes another animalistic noise that’s a mix between depraved and desperate. He’s holding onto you so tight, you assume you’ll see the aftermath of his touch somewhere along your skin tomorrow. 

Which you always tend to love.

You drag your nails down his back in a frenzied attempt at feeling him. The way his shoulder blades roll beneath your palms, the way the muscles flex with each drive of his hips. The way he feels strong. Sturdy. Sure.

He groans at the feel of your hands along his skin, tugging you down until you’re all the way. Forcing you to sit on his cock for the last few moments as he presses his mouth to yours and takes.

It’s sinful and it’s sweet and it’s perhaps the best kiss you’ve ever shared as his cum fills you. You whimper against his tongue, legs wrapping around his waist in an effort to keep every drop he’s offering inside of you. Refusing to let the water wash it away.

And he holds you there for quite some time, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he moves his lips to your neck to leave reminders of his adoration for you. 

It almost makes your chest ache with how much you love this man.

At least four minutes pass before he finally squeezes your sides and begins to guide you both apart. You don’t look down. Don’t want to see him slip out of you or see his cum get carried away. You always hate this part. Hate when he has to leave you.

Smirking, he presses a kiss to your cheek, already anticipating your frustration. “S’okay, baby. Gonna give you more when we get home, yeah? Think you can wait for me?”

You nod eagerly, offering him a smile that seems to make his entire day.

“Good girl,” he whispers before squeezing your ass once more. “Now, I want you to go over there, get out, and sit on the edge of the pool for me, yeah? One leg up and the other one spread.”

Confused, you look toward the outside of the pool. “Okay…why?”

However, his mischievous smile is answer enough.

“Because I’ve got a record to beat.”

F*ck this man, respectfully 💞

And thank you to @finelinesss for helping me with this idea hehe

~ Other Harry Blurbs

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics

[adorehs]

Undo Me

Request: YN reveals a kink in front of best friend!Harry, who is curious…

Contains: smut, spanking, talks of kinks, inappropriate uses of dining tables 🔥

Word count: 3.7k (for a prompt lol I have no chill)

Masterlist requests are OPEN come talk to me

“Have you been good tonight, YN?” He didn’t look at her, though not because he seemed shy. He was giving her an out. He was taking a risk saying this and by looking away when he did he gave her the option to laugh it off, say goodnight and go their separate ways.

It was in her hands.

“Yeah. I- I think I’ve been good.”

-

This was a big step for her and Harry’s fifteen year old friendship. It was her first time in London. Meeting the other friends. Seeing if she gelled. If her face fit. If she was worthy of integrating into the rest of his life. The side of his life YN had always kept herself carefully separate from.

It wasn’t just any friends she was meeting tonight either. It was Harry’s band. Work friends were notoriously harder to win over.

“You are very dramatic. Do you know that?” Harry said, glancing up from where he was laying the table.

YN mock gasped. “Dramatic? Me?”

Harry placed the last fork down and tilted his head, admiring his handiwork. YN would have helped, but she was too busy biting her nails and stressing, perched on a stool at the kitchen island, facing out towards the dining area.

“I just think you’re worrying about nothing,” he said, turning to her and reaching behind his back to untie the little apron he wore over his fitted trousers. “And they’re not work friends. I’ve known them for years. They’re some of my best friends.”

YN moaned and covered her face. “That makes it more stressful.”

Harry laughed and walked over to her. She could hear his shoes on the wooden floorboards. He gently took hold of her wrists and moved her hands from her face. “Can you undo me?”

YN blinked. “What?”

“My apron,” he said, turning so he stood between her legs, his back to her. YN had worn a mid-thigh length, satin blue dress, a slit up one side stopping before the knicker line. She wanted to look the part of someone worthy of Harry’s friendship. “I tied it too tight.”

Harry spoke again while YN fought with the knot. “They’re my best friends but you’re my longest friend. I want you to like them,” he said. YN freed his apron and he tugged it off his hips. “Relax. Enjoy yourself. If you do, I might have a treat for you.”

“If it’s that cheesecake you botched I don’t want it,” YN teased. Harry threw the apron over her head and went to take the wine out of the fridge.

-

It really wasn’t as bad as she’d worried. Mitch and Sarah were lovely, and they’d brought their toddler with them so YN distracted herself by pulling faces and making them giggle.

Harry had actually cooked a decent meal. He blushed when the three of them complimented him and laughed at the toddler blowing raspberries. (“A glowing review!”) He wouldn’t let anyone help clear up until Mitch rolled his eyes and started gathering plates while Sarah put the little one down for a nap on the sofa.

“You’re never usually this much of a host. It’s usually just let us show up and serve ourselves,” he said. “Are you showing off for YN?”

YN laughed and sipped her wine. “Oh trust me, it’s not on my behalf. Shit head didn’t even help me unpack my things in the guest room.”

“I was giving you some privacy,” Harry said defensively.

“Haven’t you two known each other since you were like, pre-teens? Doubt there’s much privacy left is there?” Mitch chuckled. Harry stuck his tongue out at him as the two of them returned to the table with another bottle of wine.

Sarah slipped back beside YN in time to have her glass refilled. “I bet you have the most embarrassing stories about Harry.” She clapped her hands together. “I have been waiting for this day.”

“I don’t think I have many, actually,” YN mumbled, catching Harry’s eye. A quick check in on how comfortable he was with this conversation. He looked relaxed, leant back on his chair with his legs slightly spread, a rosy tint to his cheeks from the wine. None of them were near drunk, just that right shade of tipsy.

“Surely you have some awkward anecdotes of when cat daddy over here was a blushing virgin?” Sarah pressed.

YN laughed and shook her head.

“She must be a good friend, Harry,” Mitch grinned. “If I knew you back then I’d be making sure the whole world knew your most humiliating origin stories.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smirked. “Thanks. I’m really feeling the love, guys.” He took a gulp of wine, licked his lips and placed his glass back down. “YN’s a little shy about things like that. Leave her alone.”

YN knew he meant well, but Harry feeling he had to field this conversation for her made her cringe inwardly.

“Sorry, YN,” Sarah said earnestly. “I have one glass of wine nowadays and I go a bit loopy.”

“What’s new?” Harry teased.

“That is new,” she pointed at the sofa. “And it is ruining my sex life.”

YN choked on her own breath, quickly covering her mouth with her palm.

“I love the tiny thing to death, but,” Sarah sighed. “I am missing…certain parts of our relationship.”

“Wait,” Harry sat up straighter and wiggled his finger between Sarah and Mitch. “You two aren’t…?”

Mitch punched Harry’s arm. “Shut the fuck up, dude. Of course we are.”

Harry pouted and rubbed his bicep.

“We are,” Sarah said. “When we can steal like ten minutes to be alone. But there’s no time for the exciting stuff.”

“Love you too, babe,” Mitch deadpanned, but he said it with a lot of love in his eyes for his wife across the table.

“You know what I mean, don’t you, YN?” Sarah turned to YN and nodded as if to prompt her.

“Sarah,” Harry warned. “I told you. YN doesn’t want to talk about that stuff.”

“It’s okay,” YN said, before Harry could go on. She wished her voice sounded more confident. “I get it. I mean,” she shrugged. “I’m not exactly getting much myself right now, but, sometimes there’s certain itches you want scratched.”

Harry was staring at her. She could see it in the corner of her eye, feel it burning the side of her face, raking hotly over her neck and chest.

“That’s exactly it!” Sarah said, snapping her fingers. “An itch you want scratched.”

“And what itches exactly are you wanting to be scratched?” Mitch said. YN vaguely thought, this isn’t appropriate dinner party conversation, but Mitch said it with zero sleaze. He got away with it.

“You know my itches,” Sarah dismissed. “I want to know YN’s!”

YN gulped. “Er…”

“Come on, YN. What am I missing in the world of exciting sex? Let me live through you.”

“Once again,” Mitch said, flatly. “Love you.” Sarah winked at him before turning to look expectedly at YN, who knew she was looking like a rabbit in headlights.

“You don’t have to answer her, YN,” Harry said, his voice light but face suspiciously blank.

“Stop spoiling our fun, loser.” This time Harry stuck his tongue out at Sarah.

“I don’t mind, honestly,” YN said. And she didn’t. Not really. It’s just, it was true what she said before. Harry and her never talked about sex, even when they were both in relationships, losing their virginities and experimenting with their bodies. It was like their friendship existed outside of that part of their lives. Was too pure for it.

“I don’t think I’m that exciting really,” she went on. Mitch was topping up their glasses. Sarah was giving her her full attention. YN focused on her enthusiastic face, so she wouldn’t catch Harry’s eye opposite her. “I like all the usual stuff except…”

“Except…?” Sarah urged.

“I like it rough sometimes,” she said this fast, and once it was out she couldn’t stop because then she’d have to think about how Harry was hearing this. Her best friend Harry. “Nothing super intense. A bit of hair pulling, being thrown around a little. Choking. And spanking.”

In a moment she knew she’d be mortified about for the rest of her life, she accidentally caught Harry’s eye as said the last word. His face remained neutral but one eyebrow quirked upwards before smoothing back out, as though he’d never reacted at all. YN hastily looked away.

“Hm, Mitch?” Sarah said thoughtfully.

“Yes, darling,” he said, putting on the act of long-suffering husband.

“Does this sound a little tame to you? Do you get the sense we’re a little unorthodox?”

Mitch burst out laughing and Harry groaned.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Enough sex talk at my table. I was hoping for a civilised event.”

“And you invited her?” Mitch pointed across the table at his wife accusingly, but he couldn’t disguise the fondness YN saw in his expression.

-

An hour or so later, Harry arranged for a car to take his guests home. YN and Harry took turns smooshing kisses to the sleepy toddler’s cheeks and they made plans to meet up before YN went back home next week.

“How did you find it?” Harry asked, when they were loading the wine glasses into the dishwasher. Well, Harry loaded them, YN watched.

“The salmon? Exquisite, Harry, you knocked it out the park.”

“I meant meeting my friends.” He rolled his eyes. YN knew what he’d meant.

“They’re lovely, Harry. I’m so glad you introduced me.”

“It was a long time coming.”

They fell into comfortable silence while Harry wiped the counters down with a cloth.

“I was glad for you to meet them,” he said, eventually. “I'm happy you’re finally here.”

YN beamed. “Me too. Thank you for inviting me so many times until I finally gave in and said yes.”

Harry laughed and ran the cloth under the tap. “I’m sorry they made you talk about that stuff,”

“Huh?” YN had genuinely forgotten. They had made her feel so comfortable, afterwards it hadn’t felt like a big deal.

“Sex and stuff. I know you don’t like to talk about it.”

YN cocked her head. It was funny. Her friend Harry who was famous for his songs about sex having a friend he thought recoiled at the idea. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, that she’d had boyfriends.

“I’m not a prude, you numpty.”

“Clearly,” Harry smirked and side-eyed her. “Spanking? Really?”

“You never spanked a girl before, Cat Daddy?” YN said, using the nickname Sarah had teased him with earlier.

Harry turned to look at her. The overhead lighting made his eyes look dark. “Oh, I have. I just didn’t think it would be something you’re into.”

“What exactly did you think I would be into?” Her mind was reeling to keep up with the change in direction of conversation. To process and place these new thoughts. Harry had things he’d imagined she’d be into? Was this something he’d actively thought about, or assumptions he was just now making?

“Being called a good little slut.” YN’s mouth dropped open. Harry didn’t falter. “Good girl, that kind of thing. You’re such a people pleaser. You like doing a good job. I’d assume that carried over into the bedroom too.”

YN packed that away to examine later (that cupboard of her brain was overflowing) and said, “I do like that. I like that too.”

“Interesting.”

They let that sit for a moment. Harry draped the cloth over the tap and washed his hands.

“The spanking thing, it’s not…” Where was she going with this? “It’s not a rough thing. At least that’s not why I like it.”

Harry waited for her to go on while he dried his hands.

“It’s good. It helps me get out of my head. Just focus on feeling, rather than thinking.”

Harry poked his tongue in his cheek thoughtfully. “Like a treat. For being good?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Have you been good tonight, YN?” He didn’t look at her though not because he seemed shy. He was giving her an out. He was taking a risk saying this and by looking away when he did he gave her the option to laugh it off, say goodnight and go their separate ways.

It was in her hands.

“Yeah. I- I think I’ve been good.”

The change in energy was palpable. Harry looked directly at her now. His eyes slowly ran over each feature on her face, his lips twitching with curiosity. YN felt a thrill run through her entire body at this unknown territory.

“You have, haven’t you? Tried so hard to speak to my friends. You were so nervous. Bet you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, hm?”

Harry spoke with almost his normal voice. One could be forgiven for thinking this was just an ordinary chat. But YN knew the nuances of his tone enough to know she had never heard this particular voice before. It was oddly formal.

“A little bit.” YN winced as her voice broke.

“Would you like some water?” Harry said, suddenly, turning to grab a clean glass from the cupboard. “Go wait at the table. I’ll bring it to you.”

YN’s body obeyed before she had time to think. Her body was doing a lot of things without thought right then. She tucked her dress under her thighs as she sat down and registered the way her skin tingled.

“Here you go,” Harry said, placing the glass in front of her. He didn’t sit down. YN grabbed the glass and drank it all in long gulps. The water was cold and only made her realise how warm she was feeling.

Harry cocked his head at her, still half-smiling. “No thank you for your gracious host?”

“Thank you, gracious host,” she joked, trying to find her footing in this exchange.

Slowly, Harry lifted one hand and pushed it through her hair until he was cupping the back of her head. YN gazed up at him. He had never touched her like this. Maybe once when he held her hair back while she was sick at a party, many moons ago. She didn’t want to think about drinking too much and bathroom floors.

She didn’t want to think.

“You drunk?” Harry asked. She shook her head, feeling strands of hair tugging through Harry’s fingers. He didn’t hold her tightly. “Good.”

He gently squeezed his fingers and lifted her up to her feet. YN went willingly, her body thrumming with the control he had over her in this moment. He used the hand in her hair and one hand on her abdomen to lean her over the table. The feel of his fingers so low down on her body caused an instant reaction. She felt herself getting wetter without realising she was already soaked.

Her body ached for him when he let go, but he entwined his fingers with hers and stretched her arms across the table so her chest pressed against the hard wood surface.

“Is that okay?” He said. “Are you comfortable?” He sounded so casual he may as well been talking about the guest bed upstairs.

YN nodded even though ‘comfort’ wasn’t her primary feeling. It was anticipation, nervousness, unmistakable sexual excitement. And running through it all, but not strong enough to act on, complete and utter surprise.

Harry stood upright and ran one hand down her back, resting it just above her buttocks.

“This dress was cruel, YN,” Harry said then, with a laugh. It was his shy laugh. The one you knew he used when he wasn’t sure how to answer a question in a way that explained himself properly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she admitted. Harry was running his hand up and down her back, always stopping before the curve of her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said and YN wanted to scream YES IT DOES, WHAT DOES IT MEAN? But Harry had grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up to expose her lower half to him. For a moment she was so thankful she’d worn underwear, until she realised from his angle he could see the damp spot forming on them. She pressed her thighs together, attempting to cover herself but only succeeding in sending a pulse of energy through her body.

Harry swore softly. “You gonna let me give you a little treat for being good tonight?”

YN’s head spun with how quickly blood was rushing around her body. She felt her heart might beat right through the table. Somewhere in there she heard a ‘yes’ slip from her mouth.

Harry didn’t wait. He smacked one hand soundly over her right cheek. YN gasped. His palm came down once more before he pressed down over the burning skin.

“Is that what you wanted?” Harry said. Not authoritative, more so curious.

“Yes,” she said and inhaled shakily.

“Again?”

“Yes,” she repeated and Harry obeyed. He obeyed even though YN felt she had no control over the situation, and that’s what she liked about it.

Harry slapped the crease between the left cheek and thigh. He smacked across both cheeks and used two hands to squeeze the fleshy part of her bum. YN felt her legs fall open at a particularly hard slap and moaned before she could stop it.

Harry grabbed her hips, just on the side of not-gentle and pressed himself against her. YN felt the ghost of friction against where she was wettest. She wondered if Harry could feel the heat of her skin through his trousers the way she felt the hardness of him.

“Fuck, YN. You’re unreal,” he said, voice thick. YN felt the compliment like hands all over her.

YN craned her neck to look for the first time. She curled her toes at the sight of his hands with fresh multicoloured polish on the nails, one hand on her hip, the other on her lower back. It did more to her than any foreplay she’d had in the last year. It didn’t feel like foreplay. It felt like more more more.

“More?��� Harry repeated her thoughts, or had she said it out loud? “Something else?”

He shifted her hips up higher so her thighs spread more. One of his hands slipped around her waist, touching the outside of her underwear lightly, checking, reassuring himself that she was wet and wanting this.

He still checked with her, leaning over to speak into her ear. His erection rubbed against the back of her thigh. “Can I touch you?”

It was unmistakable what he meant, considering he was already touching her, almost his whole body laying against hers while one finger circled the damp patch of her underwear.

“Yes, Harry. Just,” she panted, pushing her hips back. Harry stood back up and, now he had permission, didn’t take his time. He slid his hand up over her mound and under the waistband of her underwear. He circled her clit until YN’s legs wobbled.

“Do you think you’ll come?” He asked. YN pressed her forehead against the table and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t decide if thinking about it being Harry made it better or worse. Thinking about it being Harry’s finger tips - teasing her entrance, pulling away to her clit, teasing again - was almost too much. Too much complication when she was feeling so good.

“Can you come like this, pet?” Harry asked again. He wasn’t pressuring her for any particular answer. He wanted to know.

“I think so,” she finally replied, breathily.

“Okay, good.” He wrapped one arm around her stomach and sank a finger inside her. “Good girl.”

YN couldn’t focus on any one feeling then. It was a kaleidoscope of sensations: Harry’s fingers moving inside her, the heel of his palm on her clit with not quite enough pressure, the strong muscles of his arm holding her tight to him, him against her getting barely any friction, her own fingers gripping the table.

“Oh, oh, Harry.” She reached between her body and the table to press her hand over Harry’s, to push it harder against herself. While she rode out the high, she vaguely registered the way her hips moved, how the bulge in Harry’s trousers brushed over and over her burning bum cheek.

Their bodies rocked together. Somewhere in her foggy brain she heard the forgotten glass tip over and roll away. But YN was floating and couldn’t care less.

She had barely come out the other side when Harry carefully turned her over. He grabbed her thigh with one hand, palming his clothed cock with the other.

“Harry, you can. It’s okay,” she said, voice shaky.

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

He quickly unzipped and dropped his trousers, taking himself out and starting to jerk his cock with a fast pace. YN watched and didn’t help. She was mesmerised, spinning from her orgasm and trying to process that this was Harry’s dick. Harry’s fingers dimpling the skin on her thigh as he squeezed.

She sat up, studying his face. He was so pretty. Always had been. But like this, with his eyes shut in euphoria, YN could really look at and admire the pinkness of his lips as he bit on one and then the other, the sweat on his creased brow. Before she could stop herself she reached up and stroked her thumb over his eyebrow. Harry’s eyes snapped open and he released a guttural moan.

His grip on her thigh tightened as he came all over his hand, slowing his strokes and dropping his head back to gasp at the ceiling.

He dropped into the nearest chair, head still back and breathing heavily, holding her thigh. YN patted his hand, at a loss of what else to do. It felt simultaneously like the most intimate touch of the evening, through their post-orgasm sensitivity, and also the stupidest thing to do considering what just happened.

Harry lifted his head and smiled at her. YN smiled back.

“Do you want me to help you unpack?” He said. YN snorted and pushed his hand away.

“Oh, now you want to help?” She rolled her eyes. Harry stood, kicked his trousers off his feet and left them there. He held his hand out to help her off the table. She took it, hoping he didn’t notice how wobbly she was.

“Might as well get it out of the way as soon as we can,” Harry said, dragging her playfully across the room. “I’ve got a whole week to find out what else you’ve been hiding from me.”

-

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed and come chat to me! I am open to requests and prompts :)

[adorehs]

I was thinking you could do a “5 times y/n told Harry she was pregnant” for the young!dad series !! That would be so interesting especially since in the last piece you mentioned that Harry already had a feeling she was pregnant before she even told him

The Thing About Having Six Kids

so i got this ask and a couple others that were kind of about the kids' birth/pregnancy a while ago, and went with five different instances about each kid in the youngdadrry universe. it's all surrounding their birth, finding out about pregnancies, etc. enjoy!

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

Simone

(a text conversation between Harry and Y/n)

Y/n: i'm pregnant

(one day later)

Y/n: Harry?

Harry: Are you sure?

Y/n: i'm sure

Y/n: i have four different pregnancy tests to prove it

Harry: I don't know what to say.

Y/n: the 24 hours it took you to respond kind of told me that

Harry: I'm sorry about that. It's just...a lot

Y/n: it's fine i guess. at least you finally responded.

Harry: Did you think I wouldn't?

Y/n: honestly? yeah. it's not like we're married or in love or anything. you don't even live in the same country as me

Harry: What are you going to do?

Harry: I know but I wouldn't just like disappear on you

Harry: I was just shocked that's all

Y/n: idk. i'm still trying to figure out a way to tell my parents

Harry: Shit my parents!

Y/n: that's kinda where i'm at right now

Y/n: but i think i want to keep it

Y/n: the baby

Y/n: fuck that sounds crazy to say. i have physics homework due tomorrow but let me stop and make a life altering decision really quick about whether i want to have a baby or not

Harry: I'm sorry. You know...

Y/n: for getting me pregnant? knocking me up? putting a bun in the oven?

Harry: It seems too early to joke about this

Y/n: it's keeping me from freaking the fuck out at the moment

(ten minutes later)

Harry: I want to talk about this properly and figure this whole thing out but I have to go

Y/n: please don't feel obligated or anything. this was just a courtesy

Y/n: i don't expect anything from you. i get it if your management wants you to delete my number and never see me again. i just thought you should know.

Harry: What are you talking about?

Harry: Y/n?

3 missed calls from Him <3

Collette

"Let's have another baby."

Y/n was close to nodding off, so it was very possible that she was dreaming. She looked behind her. It was dark in the bedroom, but Harry was close enough that she could see him, could see that his head was propped on his elbow so he could look down at her.

"What did you say?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.

"I...I want another baby," he said, voice soft even though they were the only two people in the room. Simone was fast asleep in her own bedroom, tuckered out after a long day of playing at the park and eating ice cream and fingerpainting with Harry. Now that One Direction was officially on hiatus, it was just the three of them—Y/n, Harry, and Simone. Y/n thought it would take some getting used to, living a relatively normal life. But their little family actually fell into it quite easily.

Perhaps a little too easily.

"Say something."

Y/n hadn't realized she failed to respond, but to be fair, that was a pretty big bomb her husband just dropped. Her husband. They'd been married for a few months now, but it still felt surreal, which was probably why the idea of having another baby felt too far from reality to comprehend.

"I just...I don't know what to say," Y/n said honestly. "I—I'm not sure we're ready for that."

"We weren't ready the first time," Harry said when Y/n finally flipped on her other side to face him. This seemed like a conversation he really wanted to have, so she thought facing him would probably be best. "I just think this might be the time, you know? I don't have an insane schedule anymore, there's no more management to say that we can't, and I've always thought about giving Simone a sibling. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

"I...I have," Y/n said.

She did think about more kids. As young as she and Harry were and as impossible as their relationship seemed at times, Y/n couldn't help but think about wanting more. She loved Harry, and she'd been loving these moments they'd been able to share as a proper family recently. Harry was right, if they wanted to have another baby, now would be the time.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said as she felt more than saw his hand push some hair away from her face.

"What happens when you start working again?" Y/n asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, H," she said. "And I love you. Everything about you. And one of the parts that make you who you are is the music. This...this little bubble we're in, I love it too, but I know you'll want to go back to it someday. And then you'll go on tour for ten months, and I'll be alone to raise two kids by myself for a majority of the year."

It was harsh, but she trusted him enough to take it. This was the thought that always held her back. Y/n thought about the possibility of expanding their family on more than one occasion, especially in recent weeks when things have been practically perfect. But the reality was that Harry would want to go back to work. She knew, maybe better than anyone, the desire he had to make his own music, to create and write in ways he couldn't while in the band. And perform. Harry loved to perform live. Y/n knew that this time spent with just their family was fleeting, and she cherished every minute of it, the same way she knew Harry did. It was only a matter of time before he went back to work, and she wasn't sure she could raise Simone and a newborn without him.

"That's...That's all over now," Harry said. When Y/n tried to protest, he continued on. "What I meant to say was, the ridiculous schedules, the strict rules about when we can and can't spend time together, the separate hotel rooms. Mama, things can be different now."

"But management—"

"I bought out my contract," he said. "I haven't really given it much thought in a while because I just want to be present with you and Simone, but I've got a few people in mind for new managers. People who will prioritize our family."

This was certainly news to Y/n. It was hard to talk about Harry's management or the harsh thumb they pinned him under, so oftentimes it was a topic they avoided. Hearing him say this now, knowing how much money it would've taken to buy out his contract...that was a huge deal. As far as she knew, the other boys were just sticking with it until the contracts were finished. But Harry went and did what Y/n didn't even think was possible.

"Our family," Y/n repeated, and for a moment, she could see it. The three of them becoming four. It was crazy to think about, to think so far ahead into the future, but Y/n wasn't scared by it.

"Let's have another baby," Harry said again.

Looking at him, Y/n's heart squeezed in her chest. He'd been growing his hair out for a while now, and it was long enough that it reached just passed his shoulders. She loved it, thought it made him look older, more mature. And okay, hot. And Simone loved it too. She loved braiding it and putting bows and flowers in it or just twisting it around her finger. His shoulders were broad and lean, though he'd put on a little muscle in his arms from doing handiwork around the house, something he claimed he loved to do even though Y/n had heard him curse from another room while he worked on his latest project.

She looked at his face, the one that looked so different yet so similar to the one she'd met when she was seventeen. She wondered what those teenagers would think of the people they'd become, of the things they'd seen and experienced.

She thought about it. The baby-to-be. It would have Harry's eyes and smile, her nose and hair color. If it was a girl, she could wear matching outfits with Simone, if it was a boy...Well, they could maybe still match. Y/n thought about all the baby clothes—the adorable little onesies and shoes and mittens to keep the baby from scratching their face while they slept. She didn't let herself think of the late nights and sore boobs and dirty diapers. In this moment, she just thought about all the good feelings, every perfect moment that could be.

"You promise things will be different? I can't—I can't do it alone," she said, needing to hear him say it again.

Harry didn't try to kiss her, he didn't put his hands on her waist or pull her to his chest—all tactics he would normally use to distract her. This conversation was too serious, too important, and she loved him all the more for understanding that.

"I promise, Y/n," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I will never make you regret living this life with me."

"That's not what I—"

"I know, but I just...I needed to say it."

He needed to make that promise to her, to himself. Life had not been easy, and Y/n knew Harry blamed himself for a lot of the hardships they faced.

"I don't," she said, kissing their joined hands. "And I won't. Ever. "

Harry grinned, and Y/n could tell even in the dark that his gaze was a little watery. Still, he inched forward and said, "So...?"

Y/n leaned forward and kissed him, her leg slotting between his. "Let's have another baby."

Maeve and Jules

"I'm sorry, did you just say twins?"

"I did. I'm seeing two heartbeats here. See?" The doctor said, pointing at the monitor she'd been observing closely the last five minutes.

Y/n couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It was one thing to be pregnant (again), but an entirely different one to be pregnant with twins. "That's—"

"Amazing," Harry breathed.

Y/n turned her head away from the monitor to look at her husband, whose eyes were glued to the screen with a look of wonder in them. As she'd begun to process her own feelings about housing not one but two babies in her belly for nine months, she hadn't really considered how he might feel about it.

Looking at him now, she could tell he was ecstatic.

Y/n was still panicking a little, but seeing the elation on Harry's face was comforting. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard, needing to feel the warmth of his palm to ground her.

"Hey," he said softly, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "This is a good thing. Unexpected, but good."

"I know," Y/n said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know it's just...a lot. I mean...twins?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

His confidence was reassuring. Maybe he was freaking out on the inside and not letting it show for her sake, but Y/n felt better about the situation at hand and was ready to continue with the appointment.

To the doctor, she said, "Are they healthy?"

The doctor smiled warmly. "They are. It looks like one of them is about a week behind, but that's nothing to worry about."

"Really? They're twins. That doesn't seem possible," Harry said, his brow furrowing adorably.

"It's rare, but it is possible. Fraternal twins can be conceived as much as twenty-four days apart," the doctor said.

Y/n understood perhaps a split-second before Harry, but when he did, he turned as beet red as she felt. The doctor didn't seem to mind their embarrassment, though she'd probably seen all sorts of couples and situations. Y/n imagined there wasn't much that the doctor hadn't seen before.

The appointment wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Harry snuck out of the hospital through a separate door while Y/n set up her next appointment. She met him in the staff parking lot, where he was standing by the passenger door to help her in. Harry gave her a quick kiss before closing her in and walking around to the driver's side. As he drove, Y/n was thinking about a number of things—twice the amount of clothes, twice the amount of crying, twice the amount of diaper changes. She was excited at the prospect of having a baby. It was a conversation she and Harry had before they started trying, but the idea of twins was a lot to wrap her head around.

She looked at Harry, wanting to ask how he felt now that they were alone, but she stopped herself.

Harry had one hand on the steering wheel, the other covering a wide grin. He was blushing a little too, and Y/n couldn't help but ask what had him smiling like an idiot.

"I'm trying to figure out which times," he said.

"What do you mean which—Are you kidding? Which times we conceived the twins?"

"Aren't you curious?" Harry asked. "Twice, babe. I put a baby in you twice. I mean, one of them had to be when we were on the yacht, right? I always feel good after we have sex, but I feel like we really outdid ourselves there. Clearly."

Y/n just looked at her husband in shock. "You are..."

"What? It's cool!" Harry insisted, but he was laughing too. "And it takes the edge off a little. Come on, you try."

So he was more nervous than he was letting on. That was comforting in its own way too, but Y/n appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. They could have a serious conversation later, but for now it was fun to just forget all of that. Just for a moment.

Y/n gave him a dry look, trying to appear like she wasn't impressed until she eventually rolled her eyes and smiled. "Mm...I agree with the yacht, and...when you came back from London."

"Really?" Harry asked, more curious than surprised.

"Yeah," Y/n said with a little sigh as she remembered the night in question. "That was a good night."

It was one of those rare occurrences where Simone was in her own bed and Collette managed to sleep for more than a couple hours. They'd spent the whole night catching up and giggling like idiots and kissing and enjoying the pleasure of being truly alone with each other. Y/n loved those moments with Harry, where everything was just so simple and easy and it was just them having a little fun. They definitely should've been catching up on sleep while they could, but neither of them wanted to, so they stayed up with tired smiles and slurred movements until they heard Collette's cries through the baby monitor.

"It was. We should do that again sometime," Harry said. Taking Y/n's hand, he kissed the tops of her knuckles.

"You just want to go for triplets," Y/n teased, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.

"I'm not that crazy," he said, but his smile told her he was thinking about the possibility. Maybe just a little. "I'm excited for this."

"Yeah? What do you think? Boys? Girls? A boy and a girl?"

Harry shrugged. "Our track record would suggest girls, but..."

"You never know," Y/n finished for him.

Geneva

"We have some pretty big news to share."

Once a month, the Styles family held a Zoom call with their friends and family who were scattered across the globe. Since lockdown began, there was a lot of adjusting—online school, not being able to go to the park to play, being at home all day. It was a lot for everyone, but Harry and Y/n did their best to make the adjustments smoother. And when they needed a break, they set up the monthly Zoom calls.

They were mostly just to catch up. Once all the children went to sleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up late talking to other adults about everything and nothing, maybe even played a different drinking game or two to round out the night before they went back to being parents. Tonight was a special night, though.

Multiple faces looked at Harry and Y/n expectantly through their computer screen. Both of them were sporting big smiles as Y/n leaned on Harry's side, one of his older sweatshirts covering her body and the almost imperceptible bump that was beginning to show now. Today was the first day she'd begun to show, and Harry nearly lost his mind with excitement. Finding out Y/n was pregnant had been somewhat of a surprise, but when she told him, he was over the moon. He's started to suspect, having recognized some of his wife's symptoms by now, but they'd been waiting for the right time to tell their families and friends, and tonight was the night.

"What's going on, darling?" Anne asked.

Neither Harry nor Y/n could barely contain their excitement, which probably gave away the news before they actually said anything. However, in their own eagerness to share the news, neither of them saw a few people on the call sporting knowing looks.

"We're having a baby!"

Cheers went all around as everyone congratulated the couple. Questions were asked about due dates and how far along they were and what they were going to do about the lockdown situation. Everything was just as Harry had hoped it would be.

And then things took an interesting turn.

"Who won?" Jeff asked.

"Won? What do you mean—"

"If my math is correct, which I'm pretty sure it is, I believe it goes to Gem," Sarah said, looking down at her phone. "She went with three and a half months. Glenne narrowly missed with three. No one had four so it goes to Gemma."

A collective groan went throughout the Zoom, leaving Harry and Y/n very confused.

"Did you place bets on us?" Y/n asked, sounding more astonished than offended.

"When lockdown became permanent, we knew it was a matter of when not if we would be getting the announcement," Jeff explained. "Someone has a physical copy of the pool somewhere."

"And all of you did this? Mum?" Harry said, brows raised higher than Y/n had ever seen them. When Anne nodded sheepishly, Y/n had to stifle a laugh. "So none of you were surprised?"

"I love you, dear, and I'm so so happy for you, but since you were seventeen, anytime you've come to me with big news, it's been about having a baby. For my own sanity, I've just come to expect it."

Harry looked down at Y/n, who was grinning behind her hand. For her husband's sake, her gaze softened as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "I mean, they have a point. Even you guessed it before I told you."

As the shock finally wore off, Harry smiled. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. So, he and Y/n were predictable, even though they hadn't really been trying this time around. They were in love and had a lot more time together currently. Things were finally back on track for them and their relationship troubles seemed behind them now. They were happy, and as long as his family was happy, some light teasing and bet placing seemed harmless.

He did pin everyone on the screen with a mock glare before moving on, though. "You guys made a whole pool. Really?"

"Yeah. Can you believe Jeff thought it would take eight months for you to get pregnant?"

"It was for the adjustment to lockdown period!"

"Eight months?"

And on and on it went. Harry just smiled and rested his hand over Y/n's belly, thinking about how much it would grow in just a few short weeks.

Natalia

"I want Mommy!"

Harry sighed and pulled his only son into his lap, pushing the curls away from his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I know you do, JuJu."

Harry and the kids were waiting to hear from Y/n's mother, but he hadn't gotten so much as a text. He was anxious, worried that something was wrong, but Julian's crying served as a good distraction for the time being.

Julian continued to cry, still not understanding why he couldn't see his mother when he'd become so used to seeing her everyday. Harry would've been with Y/n had it not been for the little boy's crying, and he made the split-second decision to stay home while Y/n delivered the baby with her mother as support. He'd never missed any of his children's births, but for this, he could stay behind.

"She'll be back soon, bubba, I promise," Harry said, kissing Julian's cheeks and holding him close. "Should we go play with your Lego set? I know you've been excited to build it. Maybe we can build something to show Mummy when she gets home."

Julian shook his head and continued to cry into Harry's neck. Realizing his son was content to be miserable, Harry didn't ask again. He sat with Jules for a while, holding the boy to his chest and running a hand through his hair until his sobs turned into sniffles, and the sniffles into long, slow breaths. He waited a few extra minutes before taking Julian up to his room and setting him on his bed, making sure to place his favorite stuffed animal in his arms before leaving him to sleep off his troubles. As he walked away, Harry sort of wished he could do the same.

Every birth had been different. When Y/n had Simone, it hadn't been extraordinarily long, but it was extraordinarily stressful due to their young age. Collette was a fairly quick birth, perhaps a little too quick, seeing as Y/n barely made it to a hospital bed before the baby started crowning. The twins came early, which was apparently common for twins, but that didn't make it any less surprising to Harry and Y/n, especially because Harry was at the grocery store and Y/n was at the park with Simone and Collette and a nanny who was also there had to call an ambulance. Even still, Geneva's birth was probably the scariest, only because of all the rules and regulations brought on by Covid. Y/n's mother quarantined for two weeks so she could stay at the house while Harry and Y/n went to the hospital, as Y/n could only have one person in the room with her.

And now a year later, they were doing it all over again. Harry had been confident that this birth would go off without a hitch, that everything would be just fine, but the lack of word from his wife or mother-in-law made him nervous.

Later that day, Harry was still waiting. He'd gotten a text from Y/n's mother, which let him know that Y/n still wasn't ready to push but that they were getting close. That was an hour ago, and Harry had to believe that it was all happening now.

And he was missing it.

He knew being here with the rest of his children was important. That they were worried about their mother and probably found Harry's presence comforting. He just wished they could all be there in the waiting room instead of at home and fifteen minutes from the hospital. The not-knowing was killing him, and he was pretty sure his kids could sense it.

"Daddy?"

Harry's eyes flicked to where Collette was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She was in her pajamas, a shirt and matching pair of bottoms with her favorite cartoon on them. Harry had been pacing around his room, his phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited for someone to call him, but seeing his second daughter standing there, squinting at the light from his bedside table lamp told him he was up a little later than normal.

"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.

Collette shrugged, her hair catching the light. She wiped at her nose and stepped further into the room until she stood in front of him. "Mommy always braids my hair before I go to sleep."

"She does, doesn't she?" Harry agreed. "She's kind of the best, huh?"

Nodding, Collette turned toward his bed and climbed up on it, looking at him expectantly. Even after having four daughters, Harry wasn't an expert at braiding hair. The girls always went to Y/n before school, and she did each of their braids or ponytails or pigtails happily. Harry always made sure to watch with a keen eye, and practiced on Y/n when she let him. He supposed now it was time to put all his practice to work.

The braiding didn't take long, and Harry didn't do half bad, in his humble opinion. Collette was just going to sleep in it anyway, so he wasn't too bummed by the few loose strands that he'd somehow missed.

He'd finished rather quickly, though Collette didn't slide off the bed to go back to her room. In fact, she nestled under the covers on Y/n's side of the bed, mumbling, "Night Daddy," before falling asleep. Harry didn't really mind. It wasn't the first time one of the kids stayed in his and Y/n's bed, and tonight, he figured he could use some company.

What he wasn't expecting was all of his children to stumble into his room. First it was Maeve, then Jules, then Simone, and finally Harry went to get Geneva, just so it was a proper sleepover. No one fought for space—which was a first. All the kids just found their spot and went back to sleep as if they were in their own rooms. Harry resisted the urge to take a picture so as not to wake anyone up with the flash of his phone's camera.

He hadn't planned on falling asleep. One moment he'd been watching a football game with the volume off, and the next he was blinking his eyes open as the sun began to stream in through the curtains. All of his little ones were still fast asleep, though Harry knew that would change soon. Maeve and Simone woke up early to watch morning cartoons, and Geneva would want her bottle within the hour.

Harry began to shuffle around and prepare for the usual morning routine—brush teeth, ok prepare the bottle, make breakfast for the early risers—when his phone rang. Startled, Harry rushed over to where his phone was plugged in, a huge grin splitting his face when he realized it was a video call from Y/n.

"Hi," Harry whispered, careful not to wake anyone up. "How are you? How's the baby? Is everything—"

"I'm fine, H. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect," Y/n said, a sleepy smile on her face.

Hearing that helped his heart stop racing, but only a little, as excitement flooded his veins. Y/n called him, which could only mean that—

"Wanna meet your daughter?" Y/n said, and even through the phone, Harry could see tears line her eyes.

Harry nodded, too overwhelmed with love and anticipation to form words. Quickly, he found an unoccupied spot on his bed and carefully sat down.

Y/n passed the phone to her mother who angled the phone so that Harry could see the baby, whose face was just barely visible through a pink blanket. He immediately felt tears well in his eyes, his throat going dry as he looked down at his daughter. Even through the phone, he felt every emotion he'd ever experienced when meeting his children for the first time. It was the most unique experience, Harry always thought. He'd seen and done so much, yet he still thought there was nothing like looking down at his newborn baby for the first time.

"Is that baby sister?"

Harry looked behind him to find Julian peering over his shoulder. Jules looked at the sleeping baby curiously, taking in his sister's little nose and tiny fingers and pouted lips. Then, he said, "Is Mommy there too?"

The camera panned up to Y/n, who was smiling and blowing kisses to Julian. "Hi JuJu, my love. I've missed you!"

"Mommy!"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy's home?"

Now everyone was up and crowding around Harry, taking turns talking to Y/n and baby sister, who had yet to be given a name. No one seemed to mind, though. If anything, they were more concerned about when Y/n and the baby would be coming home so they could have a party.

"Soon, my loves. The doctor wants me and the baby to stay one more night to make sure we're healthy. You think you can be good for Daddy?"

There was a chorus of yeses before everyone said their goodbyes, the novelty of a new baby sister wearing off when there were cartoons to be watched downstairs. Harry kept Y/n on the phone while he got Geneva's bottle ready, wanting to stay on the phone as long as possible.

"I know you must be tired," Harry said an hour later. He was in GiGi's nursery and watching her toddle around and play with her toys while talking to his wife.

"I'll hang up soon. I want you to get as much screen time as possible before I go," she said, turning the camera to where the baby was sleeping in the bassinet beside her hospital bed.

"Have you given her a name yet?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I know we decided on one, but I wanted you to be with me when I said it for the first time."

"I love you," Harry said as his heart melted to mush.

"I love you too," Y/n said. She lifted the baby out of the bassinet, cradling her head with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. Looking at Harry through the phone she said, "You wanna do the honors?"

Laughing out of pure bliss, he nodded. With all the tenderness and care he would've used if he'd been there in person, he said, "Welcome to this crazy, crazy world, Natalia Styles."

[adorehs]

Found

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has to put you in danger in order to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Asher?”

Harry’s eyes find the floor, narrowing with a malicious vengeance.

It’s a look you know well, but never in relation to the aforementioned man. His partner, his second-in-command.

His friend.

You stand and make your way to him, wary of his demeanor as you gently outstretch your finger to his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He almost looks like he wants to flinch when you touch him, and your heart aches for whatever he’s fighting inside.

But then, he looks to you. He looks, and he wraps his arms around you, and he nearly yanks you into his chest.

Everything is him. Every scent, every sound, every feel. His muscles are rigid, and his breathing is shallow, and he’s cursing through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t let you go. Not for quite some time, and despite your attempts to rub his back in soothing circles, nothing calms him.

Finally, he pulls back to take hold of your face. He nuzzles his lips and nose into your forehead, and whispers, “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I ever let them take you—”

“Harry,” you exhale, slipping yourself free of his hold so you can look him in the eye. “Don’t do that, we talked about this—”

“I don’t care,” he nearly growls. “I don’t care, I love you, and I never should have let them take you. You have no idea what they could have done—”

“Yes, I do. I was there.”

The reminder makes his expression drop. Skin paling almost as if the thought repulses him.

He moves to hold you again, and you let him, but you don’t wipe the stern look from your face. “Harry, what’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Asher?”

He’s quiet for a long lull. Perhaps in an effort to prepare you or perhaps he’s simply trying to wrap his head around it himself.

“His comms are down,” Harry begins slowly. “And they found his tracker discarded a few miles outside of the warehouse.” 

You feel your heart leap into your throat. “What, um…what does that mean? Is he okay?”

That pensive look returns as he squeezes the back of your neck gently. “It means I have to do something I don’t want to.”

“Like…what?”

His eyes return to yours. A vibrant green that bleeds remorse as he dips down to run his lips along your temple lovingly. “I’m so sorry I ever put you in danger.”

Your heart sinks. “Harry—”

“I’m sorry that loving me causes you more pain than joy,” he whispers, and you can hear each ounce of guilt. “I’m sorry that my love comes with so many conditions—”

“Harry,” you try again, leaning back to take hold of his face and squeeze. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on with Asher, what do you have to do?”

He stares at you for a long while, a subtle red rim swimming beside his lashes. “I need to make a call,” he says shortly.

And with that, he pulls himself from your arms and disappears into the other room, the phone squeezed tightly in his hand.

You hear his heated conversation through the walls of the small apartment. Can’t decipher what he’s saying but you know he’s upset. And when he returns half an hour later, he’s wrought with frustration and regret. 

“Har?” you begin gently, cautiously watching from your spot in the tiny kitchen. “Are you…is everything okay?”

You know he won’t offer you an honest answer. He doesn’t particularly like sharing the details of his job with you. He claims it’s better if you don’t know. Safer. And maybe he’s right.

Or maybe he just wants to protect you any way he knows how.

He looks up and finds you. Frowns in the kind of way that has your soul sinking down to the cold, hardwood floor below as he strides over to you.

He takes your hands. Pulls you into his chest and traps you against his heart. Buries his lips into the crown of your head and whispers, “I love you,” for what feels like the hundredth time today.

You smile sadly. “I love you, too. But you’re really starting to scare me, Har. I just…I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He leans back and captures your cheeks in his palms. Presses his love into your skin as he sucks in a sharp breath and murmurs, “Do you trust me?”

Your answer is instantaneous. “Yes.”

He seems relieved. He seems gutted. “And do you trust that I would never knowingly put you in danger? That I would do anything to ensure your safety?”

You swallow thickly. “Of course.”

He exhales shakily before dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “Do you trust that I love you? More than anything in the fucking world?”

There’s an odd feeling blooming in your chest yet you feel strangely calm. “Yes,” you tell him, nuzzling into his touch. “Always.”

He keeps his eyes closed. Doesn’t let you go as struggles through his next sentence. “Then I need you to do something for me, mama.”

“Anything.”

His features twist, as if it wounds him to hear you say it. “I need you to go sit down on that couch.”

Your lashes flutter as you slip your fingers around his wrists. 

“I need you to sit down, and I need you to wait,” he continues, in a tone so distraught, it makes your throat feel dry. “And I need you to trust that whatever happens next…is because I love you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I need you to trust that this is the only way.” His grip becomes tighter. “I need you…to trust me.”

Despite the countless warnings currently going off in your head, you nod quickly. “I do. I trust you, Har. I promise.”

The muscles in his jaw constrict, teeth scraping together as he stumbles over a wounded inhale. Then, he surges forward and presses his lips to yours. Over and over and over he kisses you. Mumbling, “I love you, sweet girl. More than anything in the whole fucking world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His anguish is evident. Body tense beneath your touch and chest heaving with grief. He’s moments away from allowing the tears to fall from his eyes, and it hurts you to see him in so much suffering. 

He kisses you until he has to rip himself away. Tearing himself out of your arms before turning on his heel to disappear into the next room, without so much as a glance back.

And you know it kills him to do it.

You look toward the living room, eyeing the couch warily while taking a deep breath. You do trust him. More than anything.

So, you sit. Take a seat on the center cushion and pull your knees to your chest in wait.

Minutes go by. Then an hour. Harry never returns. The entire apartment is silent. The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains he’s hidden you in, leaving you to wonder in the darkness.

And then…a sound. The first sound in forever. The murmuring of hushed voices and the shimmying of a lock.

The front door opens. Three figures creep into the room, dressed in all black. It’s an instant wave of déjà vu, reminding you of only a few days ago when you were taken the first time.

You want to hide. Want to scream in protest. Want to call out to the man you love and have him protect you.

But he knows they’re here.

And he wants them to take you.

Maybe you don’t know why. Maybe you should be wildly confused and insanely terrified.

But you’re not. You trust him. And as the three shadows find you on the couch, you exhale a deep breath, and allow yourself to be approached.

You play up your terror. Figuring it’s better to give them a little fight so they don’t suspect your compliance.

You gasp and you whimper, and you attempt to squirm away as they crowd you. But only one man kneels to the floor in front of your feet, pressing a large, glove-covered palm to your mouth.

You suck in a shaky pant as his eyes find yours through the mask he wears to hide his face.

And those eyes.

You’d know those eyes anywhere. As soft and reassuring as the touch against your lips. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t call you by that familiar nickname or attempt to comfort you.

But you know him.

You aren’t sure why he’s here. Aren’t sure why he’s with them, but Harry must know. And if he’s allowing him to take you…it must be for a reason.

Things work quicker from there. They bind your hands before one of them throws you over their shoulder. They take you from your place of safety and toss you into a van. They don’t speak to you, they don’t look at you, they don’t even sit near you.

Everything is cold and dark. Far too quiet and somewhat unnerving. You drive for what feels like hours before the car finally stops and you’re removed from your prison.

You’re brought into a different warehouse this time. Smaller. Fuller. There are guards crawling in every corner of the room. Guns, grenades, and various weapons litter the walls and tables. It smells like cigars and bad decisions.

And just before you can allow yourself to doubt Harry’s intentions, you’re brought into a large office.

And sat in front of the one man Harry fears the most.

Callahan Matthews. 

 You’ve seen his face enough times to recognize it now. The way it leers at you. The way it smiles behind the cigar placed between his strangely white teeth. The way he gestures for you get comfortable as the office door shuts firmly.

“Well, well, well,” he begins in a sadistic croon, leaning back in his seat to study you. “How nice to finally meet you.”

You feel your blood run cold as you stare back, offering nothing more than an unamused frown.

Matthews glances toward the guard that brought you in. “Was she any trouble?”

“Not at all,” the man replies, the familiar voice sending chills down your spine as he slips off his mask to reveal his face.

Asher.

“She never is,” he adds, the corner of his mouth curling up in a cruel display of agreement. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

 Your fingers grip the armrests beside you, chest heaving as you work to remind yourself of why you’re here.

Your confusion and betrayal makes both men grin. “And Styles?” Matthews asks. “Where is he?”

“He was at the apartment,” Asher tells him, and you feel your head begin to pound. “We left him be, just like you asked.”

“Good.” Matthews crosses his arms over his chest. “You think he’ll come for her?”

“I know he will. He’ll give you anything you want to keep her pretty little head on her pretty little neck.”

The larger man laughs, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “And isn’t that just a shame? A man with so much power brought to his knees by something so pathetic.”

“Incredibly so,” Asher agrees, allowing his focus to drift back down to you. “Don’t you think?”

You toss him a bitter glare. “Bite me.”

Asher hums. “Haven’t I already?” he murmurs, leaning down and forcing you to rear back. His smug condescension more than evident. “Unless you want to beg me to do it again?”

Matthews smirks. “Perhaps if he’d spent more time questioning the men he allowed into his home—into his girlfriend…he’d have found his supposed mole.”

“Harry trusts too easily,” Asher declares, finally straightening up and allowing you to breathe. “Always has. It makes him incredibly weak.”

“And incompetent.” Matthews rakes his gaze over your tense figure. “Can’t imagine what she sees in him.”

“She sees what he wants her to see,” Asher says. “If he tells her he loves her, she believes it. If he tells her she’s safe, she believes it. If he tells her she loves him…she’ll believe it. All he has to do is convince her that she’s being saved, and she’ll do anything he wants.”

It’s the lowest of blows. Coming from the man who watched your relationship bloom from the very beginning. Who was there through every fight, every miscommunication, every moment of realization. 

He knows the two of you better than anybody else does.

And if this is truly how he feels…

The office door slams open. Four men wrestle through the frame, pulling a struggling man in their grasp.

Harry.

You see him out of your peripheral. See the blood around his cheeks, the bruises already darkening in color, and the ripped fabric on his chest. 

You feel sick. Distraught beyond measure and when his eyes find yours, tears begin slipping down your cheeks.

He’s shoved onto his knees as Matthews stands from behind his desk. Asher remains to the side, watching as a gun is pressed into the temple of his friend’s head.

He says nothing. Shows no remorse or acknowledgement of such cruelty. 

His indifference is infuriating.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Matthews begins as one of the guards weaves their fingers through Harry’s hair and yanks his head back. “But I am a little disappointed.”

Harry remains quiet. Breathing heavily between gritted teeth as he stares daggers through the man approaching. 

“I was hoping for a little more of a fight,” the man admits. “Perhaps even a reason to respect you before I kill you. But I see you lose your edge where she’s concerned.”

Your nails scrape down the chair. Desperately wanting to run to him. To throw your body in front of his and shield him from the weapon you can already see Asher slipping from his belt.

“It’s a shame she has to watch the great Harry Styles die in such a trivial way,” he tsks, hand outstretching for the gun Asher is offering to him. “But I suppose that’s what you get…for thinking you were strong enough to save her.”

The sound of a bullet ripping through the air reaches you before the realization does.

The weapon has been fired. A body is hitting the floor and you’re ready to scream as a smattering of blood streaks across your cheek.

With a wounded, heavy, and unmendable heart, you find the man you love. Needing to see him one last time.

But Harry is still kneeling on the floor. Exactly the way he was before, now covered in a few extra drops of blood.

That aren’t his.

You turn and look for the answer. 

You find it with Asher.

The gun is raised and pointed toward the large man responsible for so much pain and destruction. You see the bullet through his skull as his lifeless body splays across the ground. A pool of blood collecting around his head.

Smoke wafts from the barrel as Asher stares calmly and stoically before he turns his attention and his weapon toward the other four in the room.

“You touch her…or you touch him,” he begins in a threatening murmur, eyebrow raised and ready for any defiance, “and I will make sure there’s enough room in the ground for your bodies, too.”

A moment of silence dances between the walls.

And then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, you’re forced to watch a sea of bullets fly through the air.

You aren’t sure who fires first. Aren’t sure where the danger lies. But you are sure of the way you lunge yourself at Harry’s body to pull him out of harm’s way.

His arms wrap around your torso as you both roll into the corner, just behind the desk. The sound of more gunshots echoes in from the rest of the warehouse as you make the connection that Harry’s men have arrived.

Your ears are ringing. Your chest is pounding. So much violence and strife is happening all around you. And you can do nothing but bury your face in Harry’s chest and will it to be over.

And through all the chaos, you hear him whisper, “I’m so fucking sorry. I had to. I had to let them take you, I’m so fucking sorry. Never let them take you again. I love you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You aren’t sure when it finally stops. At least in this room. Aren’t sure when the ricocheting of bullets comes to an end. But you do eventually feel Harry lift up to survey the damage and make sure the coast is clear.

The resonating terror is pounding inside your head, but you do your best to follow him out from behind the table. Clutching onto his hand as he leads you into the main part of the office where you find an array of dead bodies and blood dispersed across the walls and floor. 

And just when you feel the first rush of relief in what feels like weeks…you find one more body in the corner of the room.

With a bullet hole right through his chest.

Asher.

Wow, now that's two parts where we end with his name said all dramatically, it's almost like he's the main character??? OOPS??? 🙃 I LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU FOR READING AND WAITING AND BEING SO NICE TO ME😭💞

Previous Part:

~ Lost (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki

[adorehs]

I know it was headcannon but you should definitely explore y/n’s anxiety (panic attacks) more and how Harry learns to help her through them and how it makes him feel to have caused her to have one, idk I just have them too so it really made me feel seen

Of course! Let's do it.

-

college!harry x quiet!yn

-

Her hands leaked with sweat, so she rolled them down the fabric of her jeans. Her body was beaming hot, but also shivering from some unbeknownst cold. Her teeth bled into her lips. But after the wince of pain from her strength, she let them go with a puffed breath.

Fuck.

Y/N hated this. She hated when this happened. And as much as she wanted to curl into a ball in her boyfriend's arms, she couldn't. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. Especially because she didn't want him to know. Especially because she was embarrassed when it happened. Especially because she didn't want to be a disturbance. Especially because she didn't want to annoy him, to bother him, to anger him.

Especially because he was the reason she was feeling this way.

"Okay, I'm done with this. I'm leaving," Harry growled, storming for the door of Y/N's dorm. "I can't do this, right now."

"Fine then, fucking leave. Go!" Y/N barked back, but feeling the opposite up in her head. Wait no, don't leave. Stay!

"What do you think I'm doing?" Harry snapped at her over his shoulder. His steps were long, making their argument short.

"Being a stubborn asshole, is what you're doing." Y/N couldn't control the words that trickled out her mouth.

She was a whole different person when she was upset. And she'd pay for the consequences later.

"Me?" Harry scoffed, spinning around to face his girlfriend. "You're the one who's being stubborn."

"Don't fucking put this on me! This whole argument started because of you," Y/N shot back, her finger sharply pointing at him.

Harry wanted to explode. He needed to let his anger out, but not around Y/N. As much as he wanted her to see how upset she was making him, the best way for them to cool off is for them to have their space. To let everything out, but separately.

"Yeah, right. It's always me, huh?" He cocked his head to the side. "I didn't do shit. Don't—“

"Harry, are you for real? You literally—“

"I what? I was voicing my opinion? Yeah, that's exactly what the fuck I was doing!" Harry stopped her. "You're the one who made this bigger than it had to be."

"Me? Oh, classic. Blame me," Y/N laughed, falling back down on her couch. She was steaming out of her ears.

Harry fisted his hands and turned away again. "Yeah, I'm out. Fuck this, we're done."

We're done.

What?

Y/N didn't have time to ask him to elaborate before he was out the door and slamming it behind him. The girl was alone, her eyes widened and her body fell numb. Everything was blurring.

We're done? What does he mean by that?

Y/N shot up from her spot and planned to run after him, but something inside her froze. Her legs suddenly gave out, causing her hands to meet the floor. The beating of her heart sprinted from the sound of the gunshot starting the race.

"Wha—“ she gasped as her breath got caught in her throat. Her arms felt weak and began to shake as they tried to keep her up.

Y/N knew what was happening, and it was not what she needed right now. This wasn't the first time she experienced a panic attack, and it definitely wasn't going to be the last.

We're done.

Y/N fell back on her butt to sit down. That's when her body started to heave and the sweating/shivering began. Her hands quivered as they ran through her hair. She wanted to cover her mouth to silence her heavy breathing, not wanting to disturb anyone in the halls.

"Fuck, Y/N, calm... calm," she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tightly. She gripped the couch beside her and squeezed the cushion. Her mouth and nose worked together to pace her breathing, but it was no use. She couldn't calm down.

Fuck. She needed the one person she couldn't call for help.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open and searched her room. "Plants," she sighed. "There’s… uh a desk chair. Plants, desk—uh… desk chair. Fuck." Her head was dizzy, and she couldn't focus on identifying another object. It was a method to help her push through her panic attack.

She tried again. "Plants, desk chair, uh... picture." It was a framed picture hanging on the wall of her and Harry at one of his soccer games. The team won and even though it was a simple game, as soon as the referee blew the whistle to finalize the score, Harry ran to his girlfriend on the team's bench.

He hauled her into his arms and hugged her. It was short and sweet because he knew eyes would be on them from Harry being a popular player on campus. And as much as he wanted them to see him love on his girlfriend, her tinted pink cheeks told him to wait until they were alone.

Y/N stared at the picture, trying to focus on remembering the feeling in the moment. But it didn't exactly help as she realized what happened minutes earlier between her and her boyfriend.

The girl fell back against the couch and let her eyes fall closed. Nothing was helping, so she simply accepted the panic. The rushed heart, the irregular temperature surging though her body, her chapped lips letting out stinging breaths.

Everything hurt.

"Baby, look at me. Open your eyes." Y/N thought her mind was trying to imagine her boyfriend with her, hoping it would help her panic attack. "Y/N, baby. Come on, let me see you." She felt feathery touches on her cheek and her thigh.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her lids flicked up. She somehow gasped through her panicked breathing as she was met with a worried Harry. He was bent by her side, eyes wildly examining her.

He smiled when she looked at him. "Hey, there you go. Okay, can you sit up for me? Can you do that, baby?" Y/N stared blankly, letting out rasping breaths, but followed instructions.

Harry helped her sit up before he swiftly slithered behind her, him now leaning back against the couch. He tucked Y/N's shaking body against him and sighed.

"Alright, I got you. I always got you, babygirl," He found her ear to whisper in. Y/N's hand couldn't decide where to land as she was scared to touch him. And Harry noticed with a sad frown. "It's okay, you're okay." He slowly met his palms with hers before lacing their fingers together. Their intertwined hands wrapped around Y/N's front, holding her tightly.

"I'm—I can't... I'm trying... I can't—“ Y/N heaved out.

"Just breath, Y/N. Match me, okay?" Harry told her before slowing his breathing to a calming pace. Y/N nodding rapidly and attempted to copy him. "Good girl, baby."

Harry felt horrible, listening to his girlfriend struggle like that. But he's glad his Y/N instincts told him to turn back around and find her. He didn't expect to see her in that state, but all he knew was that he was going to get her out.

"Better," he whispered. "You're doing good, I'm so proud of you." Y/N was finally able to sigh, but not her racing heart. "Do you think you can do me a favor?"

"Wh-what?" Y/N hiccuped.

"Think you help me choose what we're gonna eat for lunch? I'm getting hungry? What should we have?"

Y/N bit her lip again as she thought about it. Harry rocked them slowly, giving her time to focus on his task.

"Um... P-pizza?" She said as a question. Harry hummed, at both her answer and slower breathing. "No pepperoni."

"Yeah, we don't like that, huh?" Harry chuckled against her ear, and she shook her head. "But I don't know. Will that fill us up? What else could we have?"

Y/N didn't realize she had relaxed her tense muscles and calmly fell into her boyfriend's chest.

"We.. we-we liked the pasta at uh... that place next to the pet shop," Y/N said.

"Yeah, I forgot what I got. Do you remember?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "You got angel hair Alfredo. But then it was actually spicy, and your tongue was on fire." Y/N laughed softly. Harry smiled so wide and let it press against the back of her head.

"Good girl, that's right. We had to switch our plates and I had yours, right? You loved mine."

Y/N realized how hard she was squeezing Harry's hand, so she let them go. But Harry immediately grabbed them and laced them together.

"I just want to hold you, baby. Is that okay? Is this too much?" He asked her.

"No."

"Good, I love holding you. You make me so happy, Y/N," Harry whispered to her. "But you know what will make me happier?"

Y/N wiggled in her spot. "What?"

"Your smile."

She blinked, growing shy. Harry chuckled and assisted her to turn to her side. He finally saw her face, softly guiding her chin to face him.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend, only him noticing that she was back. Her body was calm and warm, and safe in his arms.

She sniffled quietly. "What did you mean when you said we're done? Like done done?"

Harry's eyes widened, before shutting as he cursed.

"No, baby. Not at all," he kissed her cheek. "Never, you can't get rid of me. Sorry."

Y/N chuckled, rolling her lips inward.

"I meant, we're done arguing. I hate when we do and I left so we could get some space to cool down, you know?" Harry explained while plucking her lip free. Y/N sighed at his words with a nod.

"Oh okay."

"And I'm sorry for putting you through that. It's my fault," his voice turned soft. "I never want my baby to feel that way. You're too special to me." Y/N smiled, it growing wider.

Harry leaned forward to grasp her lips with his. Their kiss was soft and slow, exactly how he wanted her breathing to be. And she was back. And safe.

"I love you, baby. So so, fucking much," Harry said against their lips. He lifted his girlfriend up so she could turn to face him completely and straddle him. "I'm sorry. Next time, we cool off together. Okay?"

Y/N nodded and kissed him. "Okay. And I love you too."

Harry smiled drunk-like. Dimples. "I can't believe I get to hear you say that to me." Y/N laughed quietly, before wrapping her arms around him and hiding in his neck.

-

[adorehs]

OMG NIALL WALKING IN ON COLLE!HARRY AND QUIET!YN AND HE BRINFS IT UP AT PRACTICE AND COACH HEARS

messy, messy. I LOVE IT

warnings: smutty smutty smut.

-

college!harry x quiet!yn

-

Y/N isn't the loud one. Harry is.

He can’t help but let out the pure ecstasy he feels when he's with his girlfriend. Any way she'll let him have her, Harry is a moaning mess.

When he wakes up and can only think about the taste of her come on his tongue, Harry will slide down until he's placed between his two favorite legs. Y/N will find her hands in his hair to guide him, own him, control him, as he licks into her like a starved animal.

And when he isn't nose deep in her cunt, his voice will express his thankfulness through raspy moans that sound through their closed door. Y/N digs her head back into the pillow, whimpering from the tight squeeze inside her, soon to explode when Harry suckles on her clit as his final blow.

Her legs are sore from how spread Harry kept them as they walk down the stairs of the frat house. Y/N's cheeks are boiling hot from the inevitable guilt she feels after the sinful things her boyfriend yanks out of her. Harry only smirks smugly behind her, thinking of the next time he'll have her.

Niall and the boys are in the living room—knowing looks sit on their faces as the couple appear. Y/N rolls her lips inward and avoids all eye contact when she finds a spot on one of the couches—leaving space between her and Harry. As if it helps stop their accusations.

"Animals, I tell you," Niall teases. Y/N groans under her breath, before angrily smacking her boyfriend. But he’s unbothered and still licking the taste of her off his lips.

The boys in the frat house will know when the couple isn’t simply watching TV in Harry's room because he will make it known through his unashamed vocals. So, that day when Niall went to wake the couple up and didn’t get Harry’s warning, he was... scarred.

-

"Ready, baby?" Harry whispers against his girlfriend's lips. He was down on his elbows so they could feel each other's bodies and the warmth radiating between them.

Y/N nods and tightens her arms around Harry's neck. He smiles and looks down between them as he pushes his cock inside his home. Y/N immediately reaches for his hair to tug on to accompany her gasp.

"Fuck!" Harry groans as she clenches around him before he can even bottom out. "Squeezing me so fucking good, aren't you, babygirl?" Harry chuckles, looking back up to become face to face with Y/N. Her eyes are doe and glimmering as she stares back at him with complete admiration and love.

"Yes, oh my god," She gasps, feeling every inch sliding and invading her space so good. "More, dove. Please."

Harry presses his lips to Y/N but doesn't kiss her. "I'll give you everything. Anything you want, baby," he says, while one of his hands reach back to grab her leg and spread it. His cock is thankful as it slides farther inside her—stretching her once again.

Y/N and Harry are breathing into each other's mouths as he finds a slow thrusting pace. Usually, he can't control the moans that escape him, feeling so fucking good inside her. But right now, his body is in shock. Something about today, something about her... Harry can't get anything loud out.

"I love you," Y/N whimpers as her head falls back to lengthen her neck. Harry immediately sinks his teeth into the open field of skin. His knees vibrate from digging into the mattress—the pleasure makes him pulse inside her.

"Yeah, baby?" He says between kissing her thin neck. "Gonna let me love you? Fuck you with all the love I got?" Y/N nods wildly and tightens her grip in his hair.

"Please, I want it." She finds the strength to look between them and watch Harry's cock pound in her.

"Yes, yes!" Harry groans before hiding in Y/N's neck. Their session might be ending faster than he expected. With her squeezing her walls and entertaining his pain kink in his hair, Harry finds his release approaching rapidly. "I'm gonna come so fucking hard, baby."

"I want it. Please, Harry," she whines. Her words are soft, needy, and all for him.

Instead of letting out his usual long, lengths of expressive groaning, Harry quietly whimpers in his girlfriend's neck—letting her keep this intimacy between them.

"I'm close, dove," she tells him. Her eyes roll back, completely ready to let the pleasure consume her. She holds her boyfriend close. His body weight toppling her and crushing her, perfectly, helps her tip over the edge.

Harry slows down his thrusts, wanting Y/N to feel the stretch, the burn. "Come on, give it to me, baby," Harry finds her ear and nibbles on her lobe. "Be a good girl."

Y/N digs her nails into his hair as her walls squeeze his cock. She's stuck in a gasp, body frozen, while the pleasure overstimulates her.

"That's it. You did so good for me, Y/N," Harry whispers to her, speeding his thrusts to chase after his own release. "Gotta reward you, baby. Gonna fill you up with all my come. Just for you, always." Y/N nods weakly, holding onto him again.

Her sight is glassy as she stares up at her sweaty boyfriend. His thick, clenching abs contract and pulse with each thrust. She wants lick a trail, all the way up to his neck.

Harry suddenly raises, sitting up on his knees. He holds Y/N's legs by the underside of her knees and spreads them wider. His cock finds itself deeper in its exploration.

"Right there, right in your stomach," Harry pants as he smirks at the sight. Y/N laid out, completely fucked and open for him. He moves faster, feeling his release only a few thrusts away. "God."

Harry tilts his head to the ceiling as he bites his lip. He's quiet and focusing on the pleasure shivering his bones.

He's so close.

One thrust.

And another.

A few more.

And—

"Hey, H. I brought—oh what the fuck!"

Y/N is up and alert, snapping her knees shut. Harry groans and falls on top of his girlfriend to cover her up. He looks over his shoulder and wishes death on his roommate at the door.

"Come the fuck on, Niall. What ever happened to knocking?" Harry sharply spits at him. Y/N could literally die on the spot and she'd happily accept it.

"I thought you guys were sleeping. You were so quiet, H," Niall defends himself, his hand covering his eyes.

"What?" Harry hisses.

"I mean, you're usually shouting at the top of your lungs when you're—well, you know," Niall trails off.

Y/N covers her face with both of her hands and groans. She tries to escape from under Harry, but he simply keeps her there by his hips. He wipes her hands away from her face so she can look at him.

"I'm not finished with you," He mouths, before looking back over his shoulder at Niall. "Doesn't fucking matter. Knock next time. Now get out!"

"No need to get pissy with me. It's not my fault you decided you use your inside voices," He teases before falling into a pit of laughter from his own joke.

The couple listens as Niall closes the door behind him and is calling for the boys as he speeds down the stairs.

When they're finally alone again, Harry looks down at his girlfriend. She is bright red, avoiding eye contact. He grabs her chin and turns it as he leans down.

"Hi, pretty baby," He smiles playfully.

"I hate you," she mutters. "I hate you so much, right now."

"Why? This isn't my fault," He laughs, kissing her before she can answer. But Y/N swats him away.

"Get off, I need to get dressed," she mutters, pushing at his chest.

"Why? We aren't done," Harry says and kisses her again. He just can't get enough of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes. "After being caught like this, oh yes, we are."

Harry falls so his elbows are on either side of her head. "Come on, I'll make it up to you," He whines. "Two more rounds then I suck on your pretty, pretty cunt. How's that sound?" He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Y/N huffs, knowing how much she wants that but can't get over getting caught just now. She'll never be able to leave this room again.

"Stop thinking about it. Niall didn't see anything, I covered you up. No one is allowed to admire this body but me," Harry kisses a trail along her jaw, already starting another pace inside her cunt. He never pulled out, but Y/N was too embarrassed to notice his cock is still inside her.

She gasps at her sensitivity. "That's possessive. I'm an independent woman, and I choose who sees my body. Not you," she argues and pokes his nose.

"Oh, really?" Harry cocks an eyebrow up while continuing to thrust in her.

"Really. Male."

Harry laughs, before kissing his girlfriend once again. He can't stop the urge. "Well, Female, you're fucking mine. And that means, only I get your body."

Y/N flicks his forehead. "Only because I allow it."

"You can't resist me." Harry moves faster in her, causing her words to get stuck. "You're mine. But it's also vice versa. You control me, baby. Anything you want, I'm gonna give you. And I love it," Harry whispers, before his pace fastens.

Y/N groans and grips his hair. "Then shut up and give me my two orgasms, male." Harry's eyes darken, before he gives her exactly what she wants.

-

Harry has his soccer bag on one shoulder, Y/N's camera's case on the other. The couple walks up the hill to the soccer field together. Before it comes into view and as the couple are still out of sight, Harry stops Y/N from walking.

"What? What happened?" She asks. Harry only smiles and leans forward to kiss her.

Y/N confusedly accepts the gesture, holding onto his shoulders. When he pulls back, Y/N lifts an eyebrow.

"I kinda want to take you back to the frat house and eat you out," He says so nonchalantly that Y/N almost trips on air.

"Harry!" she scolds him. "Don't say things like that in public. Let's go." Y/N tries to move past him to continue on the trail, but Harry grabs at her waist.

"But I really want to. Like badly," He leans forward to meet foreheads with his girlfriend, "I'll buy you ice cream. What do you say, baby?" He smirks.

Y/N pats his chest and steps back. "You're gonna buy me ice cream anyway." Harry throws his head back to laugh as he follows his girlfriend up the hill to the soccer field. His hand stays under her shirt to hold her waist. He just always need to feel her.

When the couple make it and walk through the gates, Harry joins the rest of the boys gathered in conversation while Y/N looks for her uncle, Coach James.

"Well, well, well, isn't it lover boy," one of Harry's teammates announce as he places his bag against the gates. Harry only nods while he sits down to put his cleats on.

Niall smirks widely as he approaches his friend. "So, feeling refreshed and all?" Harry shoots him a dark look.

"You embarrassed Y/N. Don't let that shit happen again. Knock next time," Harry hisses at Niall.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna remember that," Niall shrugs and sits down next to Harry.

"Wait, what happened?" someone asks as the group merges over to Harry and Niall—a normal occurrence as all of them love to brag at the fact that "Harry Styles hangs out with them at practice."

Niall glances up and realized the group is hovering over them. All of a sudden, a grin breaks on his face and it widens like a Cheshire cat. Harry notices in the corner of his eye, and the glare he gives his friend could burn his face. "Don't even think about it."

Coach James is in the shed when Y/N walks in. "Hi, Uncle James," she whispers so she doesn't scare him.

He turns around from lifting a bag of soccer balls from a messy pile of equipment. "Hey, kiddo. How's your day going?" He asks while going back to his task.

"Great, I think I did good on my Comp exam today," Y/N says. She leans her shoulder against the shed door.

"That's amazing to hear, kiddo. I'm proud of you," Coach James stops what he's doing to turn to her. "Come here," He lifts his hand up, and Y/N walks up to him to gladly accept the high five.

"Thank you," She smiles widely.

Coach James chuckles, his hands finding his hips. "Hey, think you can do me a favor?" Y/N nods. "Can you pump the balls in this bag? I need to get practice started."

"Yeah, of course," she shrugs and sets her camera case down. Coach James sighs and pats her head.

"Thanks, kiddo." He grabs the other bag of balls, before walking out. "Just bring the bag out when you're done." Y/N gives him a thumbs up that he laughs at. The girl turns around to start her task.

Coach James leaves the shed and finds his boys in a semi-circle, watching Niall and Harry bicker back and forth. He rolls his eyes and simply grabs the cones to set up the field for the first drill.

"Niall, shut up!" Coach James hears Harry snap at his teammate.

"Funny from someone who can't."

"Nothing is wrong with making noises during sex, you imbecile," Harry growls. Coach James pauses, turning his head to his team of boys.

Niall is crossing his arms with a wide grin on his face. "Never said it was. I wish you were making noises before I had to walk in on—“

"Shut up, Niall!" The rest of their teammates howl in laughter. "I'm gonna get you back for embarrassing her. Don't think I won't."

"Embarrassing her? I was saving her from whatever the fuck you were doing! You were holding her legs like she was a ragdoll. What happened to manners?" Niall throws his head back to laugh. But it doesn't last long before Harry is charging at him.

They land hard on the ground—Harry holding Niall down by his collarbones. "What we do is none of your business, nor anyone else's so stop talking!"

"I was concerned!" Niall groans from the impact.

Coach James is running over, yanking Harry off. "Oh, no need. I took great care of her when you left," Harry replies before he could process what he says.

His eyes widen when they look up at his coach. He curses under his breath. "Sorry, Coach." Niall stands up and rolls his lips inward to hold in his laugh.

But Coach James is giving a deathly glare to both of them. The rest of the players are watching cautiously.

"Talk about my niece like that again and you're off the team. I don't give a fuck. Don't do it," Coach James spits at them. "Understand?" He cocks his head to the side.

Both Niall and Harry, and the rest of the team nods.

Y/N appears from the shed, wondering why Coach James hasn't gotten the team running yet. She holds one of the soccer balls and finds her uncle scolding her boyfriend and his friend.

Coach James stands up straight and darts away, his face expressionless. Y/N lifts an eyebrow in confusion.

"Everything okay?" She calls out to her uncle. Coach James looks up and sees Y/N—worry etched on her face. He turns to his players and motions to his niece.

"Everyone apologize. Now!" He shouts. Y/N's eyes widen when twenty-something boys look at her. She hates it.

The team apologizes like their coach instructed while Harry is walking up to her.

Y/N stays frozen, lost and awkward. She waits until Harry is in front of her before she sighs out a breath.

"What's happening?" She asks.

Harry only leans down and kisses his girlfriend. It's quick but passionate, not wanting to embarrass her because she's not a fan of PDA.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, forehead meeting hers.

"Why? What did you do?" She shakes her head in confusion.

"Niall was making fun of us because of what happened." Y/N gasps, realizing all of the other players now know. "And I said something disrespectful in front of them. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." Y/N couldn't focus on Harry's apology as she's freaking out in her head.

But Coach James comes to the rescue.

"One word about what you heard gets out and everyone will be doing solely sprints for the rest of the season. Got it?"

Without hesitation, a group shout of "Yes, Coach," eases Y/N's. She looks at her uncle, and he winks at her. Harry smirks, highly impressed and thankful for Coach James.

-

#so perfect

[adorehs]

I’m gonna miss you but I’ll be loving you always. Good night.

[adorehs]

Picked The Right One

prompt: ceorry first vs most recent time

word count: 8.5k+

warnings: teeth rotting fluff, smut

AN: hiiii. Long time! I’m not posting on here anymore really but I wanted to post a one shot to show my appreciation for my fans who can’t subscribe to my patreon.

I post 4-5 8k+ fics a month for $3USD

Love youuuuu isla x

-

YN had never ever pictured herself where she is currently at right now.

Because currently, she was trying to pick between two different dresses as she went on her fifth date with a billionaire.

It sounded comical even in her head.

YN never really imagined who she would end up with but she had been through a handful of duds and thought that might set the precedent for the rest of her life.

Up until Harry, she barely even made it past a date with someone before she’s calling it off because she can’t see herself with the person.

The last time YN went out on a date, the man ‘forgot’ his wallet after ordering three imported beers that cost YN nearly half of a paycheck.

Their dates had been going well, YN felt less and less nervous every time that she saw Harry but she still felt the need to impress him.

She shouldn’t have googled his dating history even though it doesn’t confirm anything from his past - he has always been secretive and private about his personal life.

However, there are some paparazzi shots of him leaving exclusive night clubs with pretty, modelesque girls in the background behind him.

And thousands of gossip blogs who loved to predict who he was sleeping with and who he was in a relationship with.

He had disclosed to YN that he has only had one serious relationship that ended horribly when he was just beginning his career which would have been years ago.

YN’s still in her bathrobe, Harry’s coming to pick her up any moment, and she’s wondering how nice the bra and underwear set she picked out needs to be.

Tonight was the first time Harry was taking her to his house or from what she saw on google - his 23.3 million pound estate.

YN had been surprised that he hadn’t been pushy like other dates who tried to get in her pants.

The sexual tension has definitely been building but Harry hadn’t made any move to do anything about it.

He hadn’t asked her back to his house after any of the five dates but their kisses had been getting longer and steamier.

Particularly after the last one.

-

Harry always parked his car and walked her up to her apartment door, she appreciated that he tried to not crinkle his nose at that mildew odor or how run down the interior of the building is.

When they get to her burnt orange door, YN unlocks it and turns back around to him as he watches her with a small smile.

“Do you want to come in?” YN offers even though she knows that he’ll decline, she’s always hopeful.

“I want to but I shouldn’t. Let me be a gentleman,” Harry simpers softly, his voice deep and accent thick, his hands come up to cup her jaw, “But I am going to steal a kiss.”

“Please,” YN agrees with excitement pumping through her veins, he leans down to connect their lips and he’s such a good kisser.

As soon as their lips connect, YN has to swallow down a moan because even though it’s just a kiss - she’s never been more turned on in her life.

She parts her lips when he swipes his tongue across them, pushing inside once she opens up, and stroking her tongue with his.

His body is pressed up into hers, cornering her more against the door and YN’s lets the smallest whimper slip.

She’s about to be embarrassed but Harry growls at the noise and breaks a part for the moment, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

YN can’t even blink before his mouth is back on hers, holding her jaw a bit firmer, and biting at her bottom lip.

She had never physically felt herself getting wet until right now when she actually cold feel it start to coat her folds.

“Shame on you,” A scratchy voice hisses from behind them, making them split apart quickly, and they look back to see YN’s neighbor.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jameson,” YN waves her hand as the woman glares at her, shaking her head before disappearing into the apartment across from them.

Harry’s thumb comes up to pull at her swollen bottom lip, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

YN’s never been so bold as now when she leans back up to kiss him again, “Please, come in?”

Harry entertains one more long kiss before he’s breaking them apart and taking a step back, “Let me do this right, pet. I’m going to make it special.”

“You do this with all your dates?” YN jokes lamely because she just can‘t imagine that she’s the first girl he’s done this with.

Harry’s smile falters a bit but he recovers quickly, his thumb now brushing over her cheekbone.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to say,” He chuckles as his eyes dart to the side in nervousness, “I haven’t been this much of a gentleman in the past is all I will say.”

“Why is it different for me? I’m not anything special,” She replies because she doesn’t think she’s nearly anything compared to the other beautiful women he’s had on his life.

“Hey,” His voice is firmer and offended by her comments, his green eyes serious and honeyed when he looks at her, “You’re the most special person I’ve ever met.”

-

YN startles when she hears a knock at her front door, glancing over to the clock, and Harry is exactly on time for their date.

She’s still staring at her lingerie sets when the noise echos through her apartment, her hair and makeup was at least done but she was still only in a towel.

After the second knock comes, YN’s cursing as she rushes to the door, swinging it open, and Harry’s in the hallways looking like he just walked off the set of a photoshoot in a perfect fitting suit and styled hair.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks her up and down, “I’m not going to complain if this is all you want to wear tonight. Much easier to take it off of you.”

Oh, they were definitely fucking.

YN moves aside to let him in, he ducks down to kiss her cheek before sitting on the edge of her sofa.

“I just need like two more minutes,” She tells quickly, why was her heart rate spiking anytime he was around?

“I’ll be here,” Harry replies as his eyes trace around her apartment, picking up a book on her coffee table.

YN takes a deep breath when she’s back in her room, snatching the sexier set off the bed before shimmying a recently purchased black dress overtop.

Harry stands up and straightens his broad shoulders when she comes back into the living room, “Bloody hell. You look like a dream.”

YN’s stomach flips at his seemingly sincere compliment but she can’t control the intrusive comments that follow in her own mind.

You’re not as pretty as that one model he was seen with

You’re not a model

He’s just being nice

“Thank you. You look handsome,” She replies nervously, she hadn’t been this nervous on their last two or three dates but it felt like the first time all over again.

Harry isn’t dumb, he can sense it but he’s kind enough not to call her out on it as they quietly walk to his car.

After slipping in the passenger seat of the exotic car, a new one for every date, and Harry begins to drive off - it almost feels tense for a moment.

Harry’s hand twitches on the wheel, hesitating before asking, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

It makes YN feels guilty that now she’s made Harry nervous enough that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach over.

“You don’t have to ask,” YN assures him with more confidence in her voice as his one hand moves from the well to her thigh, his hand was big, making her thick thigh look nearly encompassed, the metal of his rings was cold against her skin.

She wanted to smack herself when she felt the arousal starting to creep in, clenching her thighs together a bit too obviously because Harry smirks to himself but doesn’t make a remark.

-

“Thi-this is your house?” YN’s eyes widen when they pull through the gates, men dressed in black waving them through before the gate closes quickly behind them.

The pictures on google didn’t do the beauty of the sprawling estate justice.

It was so massive that YN couldn’t imagine just one person living alone in there and it made her a little sad to think about Harry in this near castle all by himself.

Harry gives her a tour of some of the rooms where all YN can do is nod along to what he’s saying, compliment the astounding beauty, and not have any doubt why his house has been mentioned in Architectural Digest so much.

Then he’s leading her to the kitchen where YN takes a seat on a stool while Harry begins pulling out the ingredients to make dinner.

YN cannot stop staring at everything around her - she’s never seen anything close to this and to think that she’s going on date with someone who lives this extravagantly.

The conversation flows easily while Harry moves around the kitchen to prepare the chicken Alfredo, there’s plenty of laughter and quite a few stolen kisses before they sit down for dinner.

-

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation becomes more serious, and Harry takes a sip of his wine before stating, “None of this impresses you, does it?”

YN’s taken aback by the question, he doesn’t seem angry but he just seems confused as he puts down his fork and knife, “What do you mean?”

Harry shakes his head like he doesn’t know how to get out the words he wants to, “It’s just…the cars, my house, it doesn’t seem like you care. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it just doesn’t seem to be impressing you and I…I don’t really know how to take that.”

“I’ve never brought a date to my home before but still, usually most of the conversation on previous dates has been about my business or my cars or my estates. You haven’t bought any of that up once or made a big deal about it.”

YN can’t read Harry very in this moment, she doesn’t know him well enough, and his face is smooth, calm but just the tiniest furrow in his brow gives away emotion.

“It’s very impressive, the life you’ve built,” YN chooses her words carefully, putting down her glass of wine, “It’s something you should be proud of. I haven’t brought any of those things up because those things aren’t who you are. I’ve been asking you about family, hobbies, likes, dislikes because I care about you as a person, not as a ‘billionaire’ or a ‘public figure.”

Harry’s face distorts a little bit, he almost looks a bit devastated as he looks down at his plate, and he doesn’t say anything which makes YN think she said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, I just…” YN trails off with a sigh.

“Don’t apologize, please. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Harry glances back up with widen eyes, he reaches across the table to put his hand over her, “I’ve just never had someone care about me, I don’t think. At least not for a very long time.”

YN moves her hand away, only to move it atop his and squeezes, “I think it’s lovely that you’ve created a very comfortable and successful life for yourself but I’m falling for you as a person, not the cars or the house.”

And a blinding crooked smile breaks out on Harry’s face, YN loved when his dimples popped out and carved into his cheeks, “Falling for me? Are you falling for me, darling?”

YN’s feel the heat rises up into her cheeks, looking down at the table for a moment but then Harry’s pushing his chair back and standing up - he’s strides over to YN’s chair and helps her out of it, pulling her up and into his chest.

“No need to be embarassed, S’just me,” Harry rumbles as he tucks his finger up her chin and lifts her head so that he can connect their lips softly, YN’s hands coming to rest on his chest.

She giggles though, shaking her head at his words - it makes him pull back and ask, “What’s funny, hm?”

“You say it’s just you,” YN murmurs, their lips are stil brushing against one another’s as they talk, “But that’s the issue, you have me on my toes. I want to impress you, not embarrass myself.”

“M’already impressed,” Harry tells her between little pecks, “Impressed how smart you are, how independent and free-thinking you, by how fuckin’ gorgeous you are. You don’t need to be embarassed if you’re falling f’me because sweetheart, m’pretty much already gone for you. You’re everything that I want.”

“Please,” YN says softly because they basically just confessed their fondness for each other and the dark sweet smell of his cologne was making her dizzy.

She would never consider herself sex hungry until this point, she had always been more than okay waiting a few dates to get intimate but YN had never craved someone else’s body like this.

“Please what, sweet girl,” Harry replies against her lips, he had her pressed up against an oak cabinet that looked to be displaying expensive, hand-painted plates and vases - the pieces shook a bit when her back hit the glass.

A single glass ends up falling off one of the higher shelf’s, shattering behind them, and YN begins to profusely apologizing, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

And Harry’s unconcerned that a five thousand dollar wine glass just shattered as he shushes her quiet, “S’fine. Just want to kiss you,” He mumbles against her lips.

YN presses further into the kiss, her hands moving from his chest up and around his neck as she parts her lips, allowing their tongues to brush as his hands move to her hips - massaging at the plush as his leg sneaks in between hers, making it so she couldn’t clench her thighs together.

“Want to-“ YN gets distracted halfway through her sentence when his hands begin to trail up her sides, up towards her chest but he instead teases his fingers along her rib cage.

“Want to…..?” Harry copies her, he even tastes good like his rich, dry red wine that they had been drinking at dinner.

“Harry,” YN huffs out when he pulls back just an inch, “You know what I mean.”

Harry kisses once more before responding, “Tell me. Do you want me to touch you?”

YN nods eagerly, she wanted so bad to press their hips together to see if he was just as needy as she was but he was purposely not doing that, “Yes.”

“Where do you want my hands or maybe even my mouth?” His voice was unfairly raspy as he teases her with his words, his hands dancing upwards until he finally cups her breasts, “Here? I think you probably have the prettiest nipples I’ve ever seen? You want me to pinch them or suck at them until their puffy and hard?”

Fuck, YN’s never been so turned on in her life.

“I want that,” YN responds tightly as he kneads at her breasts for only a moment before his hands are trailing back down the length of her dress, “Please take me upstairs, Harry.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, haven’t even told you what I’m going to do to your cunt,” He chuckles as his lips wander from hers to the hinge of her jaw where he drags his teeth across the thin skin, “I’m going to take such good care of you. Get you so ready for me that you’ll be crying on my fingers.”

“You’re all talk at this point,” YN points out but it doesn’t come off as bratty as she’d hope because of how breathless she is by now.

That’s all it takes to have Harry taking YN’s hand and leading her up the winding grand staircase to his bedroom - his room wasn’t overly decorated and was pretty simple with high ceilings and a bed that could easily fit five people.

Harry steps away from YN for a moment, going around the room and turning on the lights which illuminated the room in more of a romantic glow.

As he did, YN’s brain became a bit less hazy and the reality of what was about to happen sunk in, especially when Harry came over and murmurs, “Can I take this off of you?” As his fingers curled into the hem of her dress near her thighs.

And for some reason, all the insecurities and anxiety that she felt earlier about not being able to compare to the other women comes flashing into her mind but she finds herself nodding and saying, “Yes.”

Harry’s pulls the hem off the dress up slowly and in between kisses until YN is raising her arms up so that he can fully take it off of her, just leaving her in her lingerie that she bought off a cheap boutique online - nothing like what those models wore.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” Harry groans when he takes in her in just her bra and underwear, his eyes looking all over like they couldn’t decide one place to stay put but he is kissing her shoulder before he’s kneeling down in front of her.

That was sight that YN never wanted to forget, Harry down on his knees in front of her, his lips right at her belly and his strong hands moving behind her to knead at her backside.

She didn’t realize she was trembling until Harry pulls back with a frown.

YN wants to shout at him to come back when he stands back up and puts a foot of distance between them, “Are you sure you want to, pet? Your legs are shaking. I hope I haven’t made you feel pressured in anyway. I apol-“

And she wants to cry because that’s not it at all.

She instantly starts shaking her head in disagreement, interrupting him by putting her hand up, “No…I want to. I really want to and you haven’t pressured me one bit. I’m just…being stupid.”

Harry’s shoulders slump a bit in relief and he steps back over to her, his hands caressing over the caps of her shoulder blades, “If it’s not that than why are you shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep inhale, deciding honesty is probably the best route in this situation, “I know I shouldn’t have but I googled you. And I just saw all these pictures of you leaving clubs and events with these models and…I know I don’t look anything like them and I’m not as sexy as them. I’m scared you’ll be disappointed with the experience.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment as he cradles her head in between his hands, his face is sincere and a bit sad when he tells her, “I’ve never liked someone like I like you. And this may sound crude or forward but I’ve never wanted to lay someone out and make them come as many times as they can like I want to do with you. I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.”

“Any person in the past five years that I’ve hooked up with have been nothing more than that. And in the past two years or so, I can't even remember the last time I’ve done that. I know you might not believe me but I haven’t been with anyone in quite some time. It stopped being fun when every single person I got with just wanted to use me for clout, popularity, bragging rights.”

“I believe you,” YN tells him, relief starting flooding into her body because he was so sincere and even though she was surprised that he was that he was so attracted to her, she believed him full heartedly.

“You act like you’re not drop dead gorgeous,”Harry frowns as he brushes a stray hair off of her forehead, “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Never been able to look away from you since the first time you bumped into me.”

“I want you to do what you just said you wanted to do,” YN smiles with a shyness that is unusual for her, pressing herself up against him while he was still in his suit and now she was almost bare.

The delighted, hungry expression returns to Harry’s face when he hears that, taunting her as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, “Oh, remind me. What did I say, pet?”

But his lips were running down the column of her neck, his hands brushing the bra straps off her shoulders until they fell, and his lips taking their place.

“You’re such a tease,” YN accuses as she curls her fingers into his hair.

And YN’s never been teased like this, never had such buildup that wasn’t even foreplay yet, every other guy she’s been with - it had all been perfunctory and boring, predictable.

“S’not time to lay you out on m’bed yet,” Harry titters as his fingers come to her back, running along the band of her bra, and ghosting over the clasp, “Have to get to know your body first. Play with every single part of it and make sure you’ll never forget how good I’m going to make you feel.”

YN’s nearly sighs in relief when he finally slips the bra off, moving back to look at her, and she doesn’t even have a moment to feel self-conscious before he’s letting out an obscene moan at the sight, cupping them before moving down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

It was like he was starved for touch as he pulled at the nub between his teeth before lapping at it as his hand massaging at the neglected one, his fingers moving up to rub and pinch.

“Oh…fuck,” YN whines as she lets her head fall back, hair cascading down past her shoulders as she holds his head as close as possible to her and it’s never felt this good before when someone touched her chest.

Harry switches between the two, taking his time to languidly run his tongue over both of them after he pushes them together, and sucks at them with tight pressure.

YN’s never known that just her nipples being played with could make her aroused but she knew there had to be a damp spot on the front of her panties as Harry started walking them back towards the bed.

“That feels so good,” YN breathes at when he begins to nip at her buds, causing just the dullest pain pain that quickly melted into more pleasant sensation.

“Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. M’going have you crying with pleasure by the time I’m done with you,” Harry growls as YN’s knees hit the bed and she falls back, letting herself hit the fluffy comforter, “Do you like overstimulation?”

YN’s wriggles further onto the bed, bringing Harry with her by the hand wrapped around the nape of Harry’s neck, and tells him, “I don’t know.”

Harry pulls back from her tits, looking at her with a confused expression, “What do you mean? Do you like when someone makes you come more than once? Like when it almost feels too much.”

Oh god, she didn’t want to admit this.

“I…The guys I’ve been with have never made me come,” YN mumbles as she adverts her gaze up to the ceiling in humiliation for a moment before looking back down at Harry who’s resting his chin on her belly.

Harry’s face goes blank, a bit dumbfounded as he asks, “Are you fucking with me?”

“Stop,” YN giggles as she playfully kicks at him, “It’s embarrassing I know. I just haven’t been with anyone who’s been talented in that department, okay?”

Harry’s hand wraps around her ankle, a cocky smile coating his face, “Oh darlin’, m’going to show you my worth tonight. Now bend your knees for me.”

YN obliges, bending her knee, and watches as Harry kneels at the end of the bed - his button-up shirt was open for the most part, showing off his defined pectoral muscles and the butterfly that was inked below.

He moves his arms underneath her thighs which made it easier to pull her bum to the edge of the bed and he drapes her legs in the crooks of his elbows and her clothed core is right in front of him.

YN lays back and closes her eyes, just allowing herself to feel as she feels her stomach moves up and down quickly as she sucks in air, and she’s shaking now but it’s in pure anticipation for what’s to come.

She’s waiting for Harry to shimmy off her underwear but instead, Harry ducks forward and begins to kiss at her puffy mound and folds over the thin fabric.

YN tries to move her hips to get more but Harry keeps her in place, he moves down in the slightest and pushes in between her folds until he pushes the fabric is against her clit with his tongue.

“H, there,” YN murmurs softly as he begins to stroke at her with his tongue while his hands grip her bum and pull her further into his mouth as he makes the underwear sodden with her slick and his mouth.

It was overwhelmingly good to have the pressure on her bud like she’d never had before, her hands gripping the comforter that she was laying on.

YN lets out the most spoiled whine when Harry pulls his head back and he raises his eyebrow at her, he moves his one arm so that he can reach between them and put his thumb right on her clit where he gives her the most torturous, slow rubs he could.

“You’re a greedy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Harry hums as his free hand moves up to thumb at her pebbled nipples, “Already getting obsessed with my touch. Just like it should be, never let you leave my bed. You’re a fuckin’ slice of heaven.”

“I’m not greedy,” YN denies weakly as her hips push up to get more friction applied from his thumb to where she’s throbbing for him.

“You’re riding my thumb right now,” Harry chuckles meanly, biting at the skin of her belly hard enough to make her squeak, “Most greedy lil’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harry keeps YN in this purgatory of pleasure and pure frustration for a good thirty minutes of switching between his mouth and thumb on her clit through her underwear.

She could feel hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes because she wanted to come, she wanted him.

YN needed Harry and it seemed like she might die if she doesn’t in this moment even if it’s dramatic - she’s never craved anything like she’s craving his touch.

Harry catches it as soon as the first tear dribbles down her cheek, “Am I making you desperate, baby? M’not trying to be cruel. I’m just trying to prove to you that you should keep me around, y’know?”

What is he even talking about?

She’s definitely keeping him.

And she tells him so.

“Wh-why do you have to prove it? I’m keeping you, you’re mine,” YN gasps as he presses on her button just a little bit harder than before.

Harry preens at her words, “Say it again and I’ll make you come. Say it loud for me, pet.”

“You’re mine, Harry,” YN tells him again, voice louder and more confident, “You’re mine, please. Please need it.”

“Give you anything,” He murmurs, pleased as can be as he moves to the band of her panties and pulls them down her thighs until she’s bare.

He’s then helping her move up and to the center of the bed, splayed out with love bites all over her chest and belly, the sheen of his spit-slick kisses reflecting in the dim light.

Harry fucking finally relents when he burrows down between her thighs after shucking off his dress shirt and he uses two fingers to split her open to reveal what her puffy folds had been hiding.

“You’re going to make me come without even touching me,” Harry abdomishes as he stares at her, “How do you have the prettiest face, nipples, and cunt? It doesn’t make any sense, darling.”

YN felt like she was a rubber band about to snap, she couldn’t take anymore and she just needed him to do something because her orgasm has been building for the last half-hour.

“Please,” YN whispers quietly, it was pathetic and desperate but she let out a shutter from her sniffles - she’s never felt this good.

Harry pushes himself up to kiss her lips once before settling back down where he splits her folds open and gives her a firm, harsh lick from her core to clit.

His mouth stays there, pulling her clit between his lips and massaging it with his tongue while two of his thick fingers danced around her entrance before slowly tucking them up inside and curling forward.

YN came instantly, she swore she blacked out for a moment and saw stars but also felt a rush of fluid that she couldn’t figure out what is was until she finally comes back down to earth.

When YN sits up, she notices a small dark part of the comforter that was wet along with Harry’s face shining with slick.

“Oh my god,” YN gasps in horror as she realizes she not only just had her first orgasm from someone else but squirted on top of that.

Harry blinks up at her, he was just as surprised as he brought his hand back up where it was wet with her, “I’m not joking when I say that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And just like that, the humiliation is gone from her body and she’s giggling because he just looks so thrilled with himself.

She squeals excitedly when he pushes her back down and continues on, burying his face back between her legs.

When he licks at her sensitive, throbbing clit again - her legs kick out in reaction as pinpricks of overstimulation try to push Harry off.

But YN’s hand is wrapping up in his hair and keeping him down there.

She never had more than one orgasm at time, didn’t really know that she could, and she was shocked when she felt her next one building within a minute or two.

“Harry, I’m close again,” YN warns as her thighs begin to shake, she so badly wanted to close them around Harry’s head but his broad shoulders are prohibiting her from doing that.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Harry encourages in between suckles and laps, moving up to nip at the hood of clit to give her a spike of dull pain before soothing it with his tongue, “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh, she does.

YN’s back arches and she doesn’t care about being embarrassed anymore when she lets out a long, high-pitched whine, a sound she’s never made before as her chest heaves when her second orgasm comes barreling over her.

“Baby, s’good,” YN mewls, uncaring when the pet name slips even though Harry’s been using them constantly, and when she’s starting to come down from the second one, she gently leads Harry by the hair until he’s crawling up over her and their lips are meeting again.

YN’s not worried about being shy anymore, not after Harry just made her come like that, and so when she’s running her hand down his chest, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, she doesn’t stop until she’s palming him in his dress pants.

“Shit,” He gruffs in surprise, breaking their kiss for a moment, and moaning when she traces the outline of his cock where it’s ready to be freed from his confines.

YN manages to wriggle until Harry gets the picture and rolls off of her, onto his back where now he’s splayed out with his stomach sucking in, his ribs dancing against his skin on every breath in.

He’s body was incredible, the definition of his muscles from his pecs to his abdominals, all the way down to where there’s a sharp cut leading into the dress pants.

She had to get her mouth on him and had to give him a bit of the same treatment he gave her, she figured out quickly that he loved being bit and given lovebites.

YN works her way from his neck down his chest, stopping to give attention to his nipples which he was surprisingly reactive to - bucking his hips up when she dragged her teeth along them.

When she finally gets to the fine dusting of hair leading into his pants, YN unbuttons and zips them before beginning to tug them down his narrow hip.

At first, she was going to tease him but her eagerness to see him and so she’s peeling down his briefs too until he’s bare to her too - god, he was just as perfect here as well which shouldn’t be a surprise.

His cock was far bigger than anyone man she had even been with, by far, but it wasn’t initimating to her because she so desperately wanted it inside her.

It was thick and she never thought she’d describe a dick as pretty but it was, the pink tip was wet and his skins was smooth velvet as she ran her hand down the length of it.

There was a reason he had big dick energy.

And YN puffs out a breath of frustration when Harry pulls her back up right before she puts her mouth on him, he chuckles at her furrowed brow like a disgruntled puppy.

“Stop pouting,” Harry smooths out the wrinkle between her eyebrows, “I’m so hard for you, pet. I’ll come if you tease me and I want to get in you. I want to show you how good I can be for you.”

YN doesn’t regret it when she leans down and bits his shoulder, making him hiss before she’s grumps, “You teased me for nearly an hour and I can’t even touch you. S’not fair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Harry pouts out his bottom lip condescendingly, “I promise there will be many more times to come where I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“You better keep that promise,” YN warns but she’s about as intimidating as a baby deer.

Harry lets out a throaty laugh as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s not a hardship for me to promise you that you can have my cock whenever you want.”

He was filthy and YN was obsessed with it.

“Now need you to shush up,” Harry rumbles as he steadies YN where she’s sat across his thighs and sits up, scooting backwards until his back is against the headboard, “Gonna have you sit that pretty pussy on me. Gonna let you go as slow or fast as you want. Okay, baby?”

YN nods with a bit of nerves back in her as she straightens up and kneels further up until he’s bumping against her folds, she goes to reach to position him but Harry knocks her hand out of the way.

Harry presses forward until the plum tip of him parts her lips, finding her swollen clit and tapping himself against her which sends voltage shocks through her spine.

He paints himself down to her core, where he barely pushes in, YN’s stomach tense in anticipation before he’s moving back up to rub himself against her nerves.

She was so wet that there was soft noise as he teased, “Baby, do you hear how wet you are for me? Can’t believe how good you feel. Do you always get like this?”

YN shakes her head, swallowing dryly before telling him, “Never really got wet like this before. I, er, usually wasn’t enough other times and so they had to use lube.”

Harry’s expression is downright offended, “Nobody ever warmed you up, huh? Sounds like you’ve been with a bunch of chauvinistic pigs. I’ll always have you dripping down your thighs, pet.”

And she believes him.

YN’s still in a dazed state of his teasing when he doesn’t just push in a little but starts helping her sit down on him to finally get inside of her and god, she feels so full.

There’s no pain or stretch like she’s felt before with guys who were less endowed then him but he had gotten her so turned on and ready that there wasn’t anything but pure pleasure as he bottomed out .

He’s already nudging against an a livewired spot inside of her that she never felt before but knew was her g-spot, and his was just pressing on it by just being inside her.

“O-oh,” YN lets out a wanton moan as she begins grinding her hips, on every swivel her clit was bumping against the neatly trimmed hair on his pubic bone and the spot inside her being triggered by how thick and hard he was.

“That’s it, baby,” Harry sighs happily and he’s looking up at her with such awe before he’s pushing at the small of her back to get her upper body closer to his.

As she chases her own release, he’s kissing all over her, and it intimate as she’s ever been with someone as Harry just encourages her to make herself feel good with his body.

His lips are on her sternum, her belly, her shoulder, her face.

There was something about the way he kissed over her cheeks and jaw as she moans in pure ecstasy that made it romantic and made her feel closeness to her partner that she’d never felt before.

The soft whispers of encouragement against her temple as she got closer and closer to the edge, her thigh muscles were tired, “Please, H. Need you to make me feel good, please.”

And like that, Harry’s flipping them until YN’s splayed on her back once again, and he’s over top of her, his cross necklace tickling at her chest when props himself up on his elbows, either side of her head, and grinds his hips back into her.

YN can’t help but wrap her legs around Harry’s waist as he begins a steady rhythm of thrusts, leaning down to connect their lips together but YN can’t focus on it as she moans into his mouth.

“I need you to come f’me,” Harry pants lightly between pecks, his thrusts were becoming harder and he wasn’t pulling back as fast, “You’ve got me close, darling. Never had anyone feel so good on my cock.”

Harry doesn’t wait though, he’s going down on one arm to use his other to snake between their bodies to rub tight, purposeful circles on her bud until YN feels the band of tension snap and she’s digging her nails into his back as she comes for the third time.

And as soon as she does, Harry’s thrusting in twice more before stilling and letting out the sexiest, most filthy moan as he drops his head and let’s go, his moans were so low that YN didn’t even think his voice could get that deep and gravely like he’d been smoking.

YN’s become boneless, melting into the comfortable mattress, as she keeps her eyes shut - peaceful to feel the pinpricks of pain from overstimulation and how achey her thighs were from not usually using those muscles as much as she did tonight.

“Open your eyes f’me,” Harry murmurs softly after a moment, his thumb coming to sweep the drying tears off her cheeks and when YN whines in protest, he coos, “Just for a tick, darling. Look at me.”

YN blinks her eyes open, she’s exhausted and spent, and doesn’t feel like she could move if someone offered her a million dollars to do so as she meets Harry’s warm green eyes.

“I need to get you showered. M’not going to let you fall asleep all sticky and sweaty,” Harry titters as he begins to get off the bed, taking YN with him despite her weak whines of protest.

He coerces into his shower and YN was so tired that she couldn’t even appreciate that the shower head was on the ceiling and the water fell down like a rainforest storm.

YN stays leaned up against Harry, her head resting on his chest as he goes about lathering and massaging the shampoo into her hair with strong, magic fingers.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles after he washes out all the suds and moves onto scrubbing down her body, “I can clean myself.”

Harry stops where the washcloth is on her shoulder, “Do you not want me to do it?”

YN blinks rapidly again, coming back into focus, she dind’t want to offend him and she did want him too, “I do, it’s nice. I love it actually, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do all of this because we had sex.”

Harry frowns at her, “Have you never heard of aftercare?”

“I have I just thought that was for like crazy bondage or something.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, “It is definitely important for people to do that but it’s also important anytime there’s intense sex. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated before we just slept together. I want to continue to take care of you, not just in the way of sex but because you’re important to me.”

“Do you do this with every girl?” YN asks out loud and maybe it wasn’t an appropriate question but she wasn’t going to judge if he said ‘yes’, it was pure curiosity.

Harry eyes dart to the side, his expression turning into a bit of guilt like he’s remembering other times, “No. I’ve never been great about it and some of the times I probably should have but just left. I…I can’t tell you enough how different you are than the rest.”

YN’s giggles when Harry’s resumes washing down her body, making her stomach as he wipes her underarms, “It was the best sex I’ve ever had. I look forward to having a lot more of it with you.”

He perks up with a cute hopeful expression, “Yeah? I…Do you think you would want to be exclusive with me?”

“As in we just date each other?” YN has to tease him a bit because of how he did the same to her earlier in the night.

Harry looks embarassed, “I wasn’t trying to -. If you don’t wan-“

“I’m just fucking with you. A little payback for earlier,” YN chuckles but Harry nips at her jaw meanly which makes her squeak, “Of course, I want that with you.”

“I promise I’ll be so good to you in every way,” Harry tells her sincerely as he washes the soapy residue from her body, “All make sure you’re taken care of. You can look forward much more sex in the future.”

❤️nine years later ❤️

“M’heart, what are you doin-“ Harry tries to question but he’s cut off by a harsh kiss as he’s being pushed backwards into a empty bathroom of a fancy museum where an event was being held in his honor.

YN’s breaks the kiss for only a moment to lock the door before her hands are going to his belt to start quickly undoing it as her lips nip and sucks at his jaw, leaving lipstick prints in their wake.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry hums as he helps her unbutton his trousers, he was hard from the moment he realized he was being dragged into the loo for a quickie and so when she untucks his dress shirt his pants, he‘s plump and ready for her.

“The speech,” Is all YN utters before she has his briefs down to mid-thigh and she’s kneeling down in front of him, carefully in her designer dress to grip him firmly at the base and not hesitate to take him all the way down which she’s adores the surprised moan that comes from his chest without his permission.

The speech.

Harry had just been honored for the fifth year in the row with The United Kingdom’s Humanitarian of the Year Award because he had donated upwards a billion dollars to different charities and organizations, as well as having three successful charities of his own - one being in honor of Willow and her adoption.

He had gotten up on stage and began with the basic speech of what it means to donate and support causes all over the world, how the success of his business had led him to be this charitable, and how he encourages other billionaires to follow in his footsteps.

Then Harry went on to get a bit emotional when he thanks his wife and all three of his babies for making him a more charitable person, how he wouldn’t be anywhere without the love and support of YN, what a wonderful wife and mother she is, and how much he loves his three daughters.

Seeing Harry be such an amazing husband and father never failed to get YN wet for him.

It never went away after the first time that they shared a bed, that craving for Harry that made her stomach begin to churn with fiery arousal and lust for him.

She never failed to have her clenching her thighs together when Harry teased her, even just the little bit, and yes, it’s because they’re still wildly attracted to each other.

But she also thinks that it’s because they are so fucking in love with each other and she swears her undying love for him grows more everyday even if she thought that she couldn’t love him more.

And she knows Harry feels the same way.

From their first time, Harry’s promise had always stood, he never ever faltered to take care of her ever - he was always by her side during the good and bad times, he loved her so deeply that it couldn’t be put in to words.

Harry always made her feel like enough, she never worried about leggy models or not fitting the image that most expected because Harry never gave her a moment to doubt it.

After nine years, he was still trying to get in her pants anytime she would let him - he could be dominant and assertive which turned her on to no end but she also fucking loved it when he was pliant and let her boss him around.

“The speech, huh?” Harry repeats but he nearly chokes on the last syllable when her nose brushes into the hair of his pubic bone before she’s pulling back to take a deep breath, “Darling, your mouth is so pretty around my cock.”

YN is truly Harry’s match. Harry loves to tease. It never stopped after the first date, he loved to build anticipation by edging, and YN realized it was just as much fun to return the favor.

They really don’t have time for it right now because Harry’s the man of the night and all eyes are on him but right now, he’s nowhere to be found after his thank you speech.

She’s has a firm grip on his base as she suckles at tip, doe eyes blinking up at him as she seems in no rush to move things along, pulling back to run her tongue on the underside of him.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time for this,” Harry warns but he’s struggling to keep his eyes open because even just the small kitten licks feel like heaven and just to keep him on his toes, she’s occasionally taking him all the way down, “Can drool over my cock when we get home. We have the house to ourselves tonight.”

And when YN ignores him, Harry knows what she wants, and it makes a sharp thrill pump through his veins, he reaches down and knots his hand in her hair and tugs, “I said enough. Are you that cock hungry?”

YN begins to pick up her pace which is a telltale sign that the dirty talk is working, and that she doesn’t want him to stop, so he doesn’t, adding in that same raspy tone, “You are so fuckin’ spoiled. Can’t stand anyone else given me attention, got to pull me into a bathroom and get me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t say anything about you fucking me,” YN bites back because now she’s in full brat mode but she’s still standing back up when Harry gives her hair another tug.

“No? So if I put my hand under your dress you won’t be dripping down your thighs?” Harry coos but his hand is already hiking up the skirt of her dress and the moment his fingers brush over the front of her mound, he can feel how damp she is, “S’cute that after all this time you get soaked for me like the first time I fucked you.”

YN mewls when he tugs her panties to the side to tuck two fingers up, Harry’s trying to get her to beg, he loved turning the tables when she came in bossy but left a crybaby.

He pets right at her spot and he can feel her tense, a telltale sign that she was going to come soon, and so he pulls out his fingers to suck them in between his own lips, “I wish I had enough time to lick in to you. I guess you’ll just have to make do with my cock.”

“Come on, now please, baby,” YN grumbles as he lifts her up to put her bum on the sink counter, pushing the dress up around her hips, and pinning the underwear to the side.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll fuck you, m’heart,” Harry hums as he pumps himself, he was so ready for her, and he rests the tip right at where she’s hot for him - his hips twitched in anticipation.

“I love you so much,” YN whines but it’s sincere, leaning up to kiss him before adding, “The best husband and father of my babies I could ask for. I just want you, H. Want you all the time.”

Harry melts a little at her sweet words, the dominance in his voice fading as he pushes in, moving to cup her jaw, and he brushes his nose against hers - far too intimate for this setting.

“I couldn’t love anymore than I love you,” He whispers against her lips, “I fuckin’ live for you. Everyday I wake up and wonder what the fuck I did to deserve you. I want you now and for forever, you’re mine, the love of my life.”

And YN thinks back to when she was nervous, shaking like a leaf in front of the same man because she was so intimidated by him - she’s now married to him and has three children with, how she didn’t think she was worthy.

To know having that same man smattering kisses over her cheeks and nose to make her giggle while he cleans her up in a tiny bathroom after having a quickie that they really shouldn’t have because he’s the man of the night.

She knew she picked right.

[adorehs]

Girl Gone Live

this is literally so stupid and so corny, but i don't care i'm here for a good time, not a long time, you know? enjoy!

"Okay, is this working? How do I know this is working?"

You squinted at the screen, feeling older than you actually were as you waited for some sign that the live stream you set up was working. Thankfully, comments started rolling through and the viewer count went up, and then it started to skyrocket, which made you a little nervous.

"I...think it's working! Cool. Well, um, obviously I'm Y/n L/n, and I'm a celebrity makeup artist. I recently did Olivia Rodrigo's makeup for her music video 'Vampire,' and I thought I would kind of walk you through how I achieved that look, I guess."

Before going live, you'd considered making a little script but decided against it. Hearing yourself bumble through the introduction now, though, you kind of wished you had.

No one seemed to be put off by your awkwardness, though. As comments streamed past, you saw some about the music video and Olivia and what it was like to work with her, but there were also a lot about Harry. You weren't necessarily surprised by Harry's fans flooding the comment section because you sometimes appeared in the background of posts from other people on Love on Tour and you'd become known as the tour's makeup artist. Sometimes you posted the looks you did for performances and little videos of you doing makeup before the show. The attention was a little jarring if you thought about it too long, but you decided it could be worse. After all, you were Harry Styles' long-term girlfriend.

But that wasn't what this livestream was about.

Your eyes scanned the comments as they moved a mile a minute, hoping to snag on a question. "Oh! Someone asked how I met Olivia. Um, as some of you may know, I'm currently working as the makeup artist for Love on Tour, and Olivia came to one of the shows, and we just talked for a really long time about makeup, and she asked me to do her makeup for the video a few weeks later."

It was a fun side gig while you were on tour with Harry and his band. You loved touring for the most part, but this was something different and exciting, so you flew back home during a break in the tour to work with Olivia on "Vampire." Harry tagged along, happy to watch you work instead of the other way around for once. He had a grin on his face the whole time as he watched you do your thing, playing assistant, grabbing whatever you needed when you asked, and holding a palette for you while you did Olivia's makeup. Overall, it was a fun shoot for both of you.

You were back on tour now, and since you had a little time to kill, you decided to go live for the first time to talk about makeup. If it went well, you could maybe make it a regular thing, so you hoped people actually watched and were interested.

*.*

Brynn watched her phone intently, pen in hand as she waited for Y/n to name-drop the next product she was using so she could write it down and see if she could afford it later. Not only was Brynn a huge fan of Olivia Rodrigo, but she had been a Harry Styles fan since she was in grade school, and when she got the notification that Y/n was going live, she was one of the first people to join.

"Luxury or drugstore makeup? Good question," Y/n said as she moisturized her face. "Honestly both. I love trying new things and seeing what works for me. When I was starting out, I mostly had MAC in my makeup kit, but now I've branched out a little more and added things here and there. But that's my professional kit, which has all the things I know with certainty will work perfectly for whatever look I'm trying to achieve. My personal one is where I do more experimentation with brands and products and trends. I guess that doesn't really answer the question, so both. I definitely use both.

"And what's cool is that Olivia loves makeup too, so she kind of knew her way around and what products worked best for her," Y/n continued.

She's so cool, Brynn thought as Y/n moved onto explaining how she did Olivia's base makeup. She didn't feel like Y/n was trying to push any particular product on her audience, nor did she hide which products she used. Her explanations were clear and easy to follow, and she even gave alternative products when she used one that was on the pricier side.

"Olivia loves herself a glowy base, and we really played that up because of the song. So to give her that Cullen-esque sparkle, I added some liquid highlighter into her foundation."

Brynn watched intently, wanting to see just how Y/n did it. Then, feeling compelled, she typed a comment. She didn't think Y/n would notice it, or be able to see it at all amongst the thousands of others, but she couldn't help but try to be noticed.

As Y/n blended her foundation in, Y/n smiled. "Someone asked how long it takes to do Harry's makeup on tour. Um...It kind of depends. Sometimes it's hard to actually get him in the chair because he gets so pumped up before he goes onstage. But once he settles enough for me to do it, it goes pretty quick. If he lets me, I get to put a little bit of glowy balm on his cheeks, but that's as creative as I get."

Y/n's smile changed, though Brynn couldn't really say how. It was almost like she was exasperated as she talked about Harry, and Brynn became just a tiny bit jealous that this person on the other side of her screen for knowing him well enough to be exasperated by him. What she wouldn't give to chase Harry Styles around so she could do his makeup. It left Brynn wondering how people even got into these situations.

Y/n finished up her base makeup while she answered more questions about the makeup products she used for the music video and a few about Love on Tour. She talked about her favorite songs and the places she'd been and the people she hung out with before and after shows.

"Oh boy, okay. I'm not a huge fan of bold lip colors on myself, but this is what I used on Olivia," Y/n said as she lined her lips. She'd just finished adding a light, almost haphazard, dusting of shimmer to her eyes, and despite the pixelated live stream feed, Brynn could still see it catch the light. "We wanted this to be the focal point of the whole look because, you know, vampires."

Y/n stopped talking briefly as she applied the lipstick she used for the music video, then shifted from side to side with her hands beneath her chin to show off the finished look. "Not my usual style, but—"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

For a moment, Brynn thought she was dreaming. Mouth dropped open in shock, she watched as Harry Styles appeared onscreen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy, as if he'd just been sleeping or a storm had just run through it. The video quality wasn't great because it was a live stream, but Brynn couldn't help but think he looked so cute and warm with his sleepy eyes, especially as he stretched his arms above his head, though her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when the waistband of his sweatpants dropped a centimeter. Not even caring that they'd fallen a bit, Harry shuffled forward and sat down next to Y/n and kissed her shoulder. He didn't seem to notice Y/n's phone propped up in front of her, or the look of disbelief and slight horror on her face. Not when she tried to speak to him, and not when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

And through it all Brynn watched, feeling like she'd entered an alternate dimension.

"You look cute. I like the sparkle," Harry said, tapping his knuckle against Y/n's nose. She still looked like she was in shock, but when he leaned in—leaned in to kiss her, Brynn realized—Y/n seemed to shake off some of her stupor.

"We—We're not alone," she said, gently resting her fingers over Harry's mouth to stop him.

Brynn didn't want to tear her eyes away from Harry and Y/n, but she darted her gaze down to the comment section, which confirmed everything. This was no dream, this was really happening, and everyone who was watching was losing their minds.

"What do you mean, lovie?" Harry asked, brows furrowing, clearly confused by Y/n's odd behavior. He finally looked at the camera, his brows shooting up when he realized that Y/n was live streaming all of this. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh.'"

"I thought you were on the phone—"

"I wasn't!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know! You didn't tell me. And since when—"

"Harry put a shirt on!"

Brynn watched their bickering in a daze, waiting for the inevitable end of the live stream. To her surprise, though, Harry grinned a little before taking Y/n—and the whole Internet, to be honest—by surprise and kissing her.

"Are you insane?"

Harry merely shrugged. He leaned in again, but Y/n pushed his face back with the palm of her hand. They began to bicker again, but this time, Y/n scrambled for her phone in the process.

"You drive me crazy."

"Now, I know that's not true."

"Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God—"

And just like that, the live stream ended with a wink. Brynn stared down at her phone almost as if she was waiting for Harry and Y/n to reappear on her screen. They didn't, and she was left sitting alone in her bedroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.