Tumgik
#h styles
barkrry · 10 months
Text
you remember when...? - masterlist // walk through fire for you It wasn’t unusual for YN to turn up at the Styles house out of the blue, it was basically her second home. Whether Harry was there or not, she was let in to hang out with the rest of his family.
This time wasn’t any different, though she did turn up looking a bit upset. Anne didn’t question it too much, allowing her in and calling Harry from his room.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Anne asked, gently stroking her cheek after she had removed her shoes and jacket. She didn’t know what had upset the young teen, but she was always happy to listen whenever possible. Even if she was just complaining about her son.
“Y-yeah,” YN breathed out, her eyes falling on Harry on the stairs behind her. “Hi,” she whispered to him, as fresh tears were leaking out of her eyes. And he was quickly rushing down the last of the steps to hug her against his body.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Baby,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing her back as he tried to be as supportive as possible. He may not know what had his girlfriend in tears, but he would do anything to bring back her smile.
“Can we- can we talk in- your room?” She managed to get out, lifting her head from his shoulder. Her face wet as she sucked on her bottom lip, and he was quickly nodding his head without a second thought. His hand slipping into hers and gently taking her upstairs to his room. She had been in here many times before, if they weren’t here, then they were at her own place. But Anne gave them more privacy than her own mother, so it was common they ended up here. Harry was pulling back his duvet, crawling into the bed and opening his arms for her. And she had zero hesitation as she was crawling into his bed and cuddled up to him.
“What’s wrong, flower?” He whispered to her, his fingers gently stroking through her hair as he leaned against his headboard.
“You remember- remember when my parents were away for that night, and- and you lied to your mum about sleeping over- at- at Jake’s?”
“And I was actually at yours,” he added, frowning a little as he looked down at her. “I couldn’t forget that night, you know that.”
Of course he couldn’t forget, it was the first time they had sex. They had lost their virginities to each other, and he would never ever forget that night for that reason. There had been so much love in the room, and it had been more magical than he could have ever predicted.
“Harry, I’m pregnant,” she announced to him, her voice flat. Her fingers curled into the hoodie he wore, but she didn’t dare tilt her head to catch his reaction. She didn’t want to see it.
They were 16, freshly turned. Their GCSE’s were soon, and this was the last thing they ever dreamed about having to worry about. They were definitely not ready to be parents, they were still kids themselves.
“Y-you’re- how sure?” Harry stuttered, though his hand hadn’t stopped caressing through her hair. YN raised her eyes slightly to meet his, though her vision was blurred from the amount of tears being held there. “Oh— fuck— baby,” he breathed out, cradling her head and holding her against his body, his own face screwing up slightly. Hearing her scared sobs against his neck had his heart breaking, and he had no idea on how to fix this.
The couple laid there for a while, as YN let out all of her tears and Harry held his own back. It’s not that he didn’t cry, or he didn’t want to. He just wanted to focus on his flower for now, and deal with his own emotions once things were sorted
An hour later, YN had cried herself to sleep, and Harry was carefully laying her down against his pillow. It wasn’t the first time they had ended up asleep in his bed, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Anne didn’t seem to mind, she knew they would be safe. And as much as he wanted to join her, he knew she would be extremely dehydrated when she woke up.
Making the trek down to the kitchen, his hoodie still damp with the tears of his girlfriend as he was opening the fridge door. Movement behind him followed by footsteps on the staircase suggested to him that Gemma was leaving him and his mum alone. To talk.
“Is YN alright? Fight with her family?” Anne asked, leaning against the sink with her arms folded against her chest, concern clear as day on her expression.
It wasn’t that YN had a poor relationship with her family, but it was known that she would butt heads with her mum more often than not. Usually when it came to that time of the month, where all their cycles were synced and it was just hormones going out of control. Anne was more than aware of these, being a shoulder to cry on for the young girl many times.
“N—no, not her family,” Harry said, sounding dismissive as he was taking out his water bottle. Hanging on the door as he searched for a suitable snack for when his girlfriend woke up.
“H, she was— I’ve never heard her cry like that, is she okay?” And honestly, that alone had Harry’s heart doing flips. He loved that his mother cared for his girlfriend so much, that she had been accepted into the family though they were only young and in love, as YN’s own parents would say.
“She’s—“ Harry shut the fridge door, biting down on his lip as he glanced at his mother. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, he knew his mother would never be outwardly mad at him or YN. Not to their faces. “We had sex.”
The way Harry had delivered the line, it was perfectly deadpan. And it had left Anne a little stunned, as she was definitely not expecting that response from her youngest at all. Of course, she knew they had been experimenting a little, and that’s why she gave them the space they needed. If they didn’t do it in the comfort of one of their houses, they’d be doing it somewhere they could end up arrested. And she had spoken to Harry about using condoms, and even supplied him with some the same day.
“Okay, and— does she regret it, or, feel like she didn’t… perform?” Anne asked him, trying to understand why her sons girlfriend would be crying because of sex.
“No— well— okay, she probably does regret it, but not for—“ he huffed, his fingers curling in his brown curls, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “She’s pregnant, mum.”
And you could hear a penny drop. Harry’s head tilted slightly to see his mothers stunned reaction, as she tried her best to collect her thoughts.
“Did you—“
“We used a condom, I guess— maybe— it broke? Or?” He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen cupboards as he sighed. “Mum… I don’t know how to help her,” he breathed out defeatedly, shaking his head as he set the water bottle on the side. 
And then Harry crumbled, letting down the wall he was using to hold YN up. His mum quick to catch him, allowing him to sob into her arms this time.
When YN woke up, alone in her boyfriends bed, she was changing out of her hoodie and slipping on one of his. Loving the fact that his scent engulfed her the second she did, before she was making her way downstairs to find her lover.
In the kitchen, sat next to his mother at the breakfast table. Cup of tea in hand, mid sentence when the sound of the fridge opening caught their attention.
“Oh— fuck— I was supposed to bring up some water for you,” Harry confessed, looking guilty as he watched her pull out a fresh, cold water bottle and open it. Downing half of it instantly before she was shuffling her way over to him and his mum. “Feel better?” He mumbled, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she pulled her seat close to his and snuggled up into his side.
Her head shook slightly, laying her head against his shoulder as she played with her water bottle. Sucking on her bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of his lips pressing against her hair.
“YN… Harry told me what’s going on,” Anne confessed, which had YN’s eyes snapping to meet hers in a panic. “No— don’t worry, okay? He had a bit of a cry, only telling me cause he didn’t know how to help you. And I’m not mad,” she explained, an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at the teen girl.
“You’re not?” She whispered, biting at her bottom lip as her fingers found their way into Harry’s hoodie pocket.
“Not at all. H explained what he thinks might have happened that night, and it’s probable the condom was faulty,” she said, nodding as her hands readjusted their grip on her mug. “The only thing that needs to be worked out is… what do you want to do?”
And YN kind of felt like a deer in headlights as both Anne and Harry were looking at her. And she definitely didn’t have an answer. Yet.
193 notes · View notes
venusjaynie · 7 months
Text
would anyone read a harry styles social media au fic?
15 notes · View notes
aprilmidnights · 1 year
Text
written in the stars; a harry styles universe 🌠(masterlist)
Tumblr media
follow the story of harry styles and octavia moon on a journey of so called love, which began on a late summer night in 2021 <3
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
send all the asks, questions, concepts, ideas, suggestions and requests you want! i would literally love to answer or write them :)
wine-stained dress, how they met
quiet moments, between the two
24 notes · View notes
femmenickmiller · 8 months
Text
“Harry’s MVs never make sense with his music”
Me: HE WAS ON THE ROOF
7 notes · View notes
ysmyllove · 1 year
Text
listening to hs3 while doing hw 🤭 specifically keep driving rn
5 notes · View notes
wazzupmrstark · 2 years
Text
harry's house definitely surpassed my expectations... i'll admit it
10 notes · View notes
Text
This is long but really important after the Greg James used they/them for Harry and then corrected himself. Please have a read, it’s important
Just had a long ass Twitter argument without someone. It was about how talking and speculating about H’s gender is invasive and disrespectful, how assuming or saying he’s not cis is not okay and… I have lots of thoughts about this. We, as people, categorize everything. This includes assigning strangers a gender. We assume everyone’s gender. The people who serve us food at restaurants, the bus drivers and cafeteria workers at schools. We automatically assign them a gender, it’s just what we do. It’s not wrong, it’s not something that needs to be stopped, it’s just part of being human. And as humans, we all have a gender, whether it be a binary gender, one outside it, or the absence of gender, we all share the experience of gender and how we express it.
Harry is first and foremost a human, but he’s also a public figure. The majority of his life has been picked apart and dissected. From who he’s dating, to the car he drives, he’s no stranger to invasive probing into his life. Now, when we talk about Harry as a public figure, and knowing the industry he’s in, we can collectively agree that the music industry is extremely homophobic, especially towards men who’s core demographic are young women. Harry, who for all he’s said and done is queer, can’t even come out in 2022. He has done and said all the right things. He sang Medicine at cochella along with Boyfriends. He’s practically Freddie mercury incarnate on stage. For all intents and purposes he is a queer icon in pop music. He has never had to explicitly come out in order for people to pick up on the fact that he’s not straight. And he shouldn’t have to. Queer people don’t need to come out in order to be queer. They’re gonna be queer whether they’re out or not, whether they dress in rainbows or defy every stereotype out there. Now, when it comes to gender, it’s a similar but different story. We are just, in western society, recognizing genders beyond the two binary ones. Though they have existed in other cultures for centuries, due to colonization, they’re only just becoming accepted in western culture now. This means that as homosexuality is just becoming tolerated by the majority, trans and genderqueer identities are under attack and greatly misunderstood. Most people don’t even know what it means when I say I use they/them pronouns or identify as non binary- most people being adults. Youth are much more accepting as we are growing up with it becoming so normalized and common. But while the majority of the population being blissfully unaware of any gender identity outside man or woman, it’s hard to navigate the world as someone who doesn’t fit into its binary structures. But, what is nice is knowing that other genderqueer and queer people, even allies who are aware of everything will see me for who I am without explicitly needed to come out. Whether it’s asking for my pronouns, automatically defaulting to they/them, double checking what I’m okay with being referred to as, they just know that I’m not cis. They know because of the choices I make in the way I express myself. It’s the clothes I wear, my mannerisms, my jokes, my blatant display of masculinity and femininity in the same outfit. At my university, if you dressed androgynously, people just assumed you were nonbinary unless stated otherwise. It was protocol to ask for people's pronouns and gender. It was normal because gender wasn’t a thing that was shameful or something to be shoved away. Cis or not, gender was something to be celebrated. So when I look at H, and see so many queer codes that are recognized within the trans community it makes me think. I’m not making everything he does about gender, I’m just seeing things that stand out to me and make me go “that’s not something a cis man would do”. Not many cis men who are 21 would sit down and order womens jeans knowing he’d have to tuck to wear them. Not many cis men want to be female rock stars. Not many cis men relate to female mermaids or see themselves as a mermaid- a huge visual in the trans community in the uk. Not many cis men would write songs about the complexities of gender and the longing for the freedom to be feminine. A lot of trans and genderqueer people would though. And that’s not assuming anything. It would be had i said Harry’s trans because he painted his nails or wears a dress, it’s so much deeper and complex than that. Myself and so many other trans people recognize ourselves in H because of all the small, complex things that he does, that all we trans folks do. Me and other people pointing this out, bringing attention to our belief that H might be genderqueer is not invasive or disrespectful, it’s stating what we see and bringing it to light. I guarantee you that H could not care less about our Twitter threads or tumblr posts about his gender. I bet he giggles when he sees a tweet
8 notes · View notes
renatofilomena · 10 months
Text
youtube
Harry Styles - As It Was
1 note · View note
cupid-styles · 4 months
Text
only angel (tattoo artist/plug harry)
Tumblr media
in which harry owns a tattoo shop, sells weed on the side, and has a big crush on y/n, a shy virgin who's very much enamored by him.
here is part one of tattoo/plug harry!!! I hope you like it :) please lmk if you'd like more from them <3
word count: 10.2k (!!!!)
content warnings: y/n's parents being unkind people, comments and discussions about weight/disordered eating, fainting (caused by a piercing), smut! (y/n's first time being fingered, dirty talk, harry being a soft dom)
masterlist | talk to me
part two
. . .
Y/N doesn't know why she's here.
If the glares from the employees of the tattoo and piercing shop are anything to go off of, they don't know why she's here either. And it all makes this whole thing even more embarrassing.
In reality, she does have a reason to be here. Mai, one of the few friends she's made in her grad school program, asked if she would drive her down to The Village for a tattoo appointment she had.
Y/N's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she asked, especially when she pressed for more details about this tattoo she was getting (it was a strawberry just above her hip, which Y/N didn't quite understand considering she thought tattoos were supposed to be meaningful). But, ever the pushover, Mai ended up convincing her, going as far as getting her to come inside — the one boundary she had — and wait while she got it done.
(Thankfully, her parents had some benefit charity thing going on today, so they weren't concerned with Y/N's whereabouts or where she was taking the car they bought her on a Saturday afternoon.)
The shop, called St. Mark's Place Social Club (aptly named, she supposes, considering it's located on St. Mark's Place), is nice. Unlike what she imagined tattoo parlors would look like in her brain, the spot Mai chose to get tattooed at seems sanitary and actually quite trendy.
It's not wildly crowded with customers hustling and bustling around, but there's a few artists at work at their own small stations. The walls are painted a cozy forest green, all donning frames upon frames of, what Y/N assumes are, sheets of tattoo designs. The receptionist who checked Mai in even offered them some water, which Y/N thinks was very nice.
"Are you nervous at all?" Y/N asks quietly as they sit in the rattan chairs in the waiting area. Mai's filling out some questionnaire on an iPad, but she shakes her head at her question, crossing her legs. 
"No, not really," she murmurs nonchalantly, "I have a few tattoos already and I've been here before. The artist that's doing it is really cool and he's so hot."
Y/N's mouth forms around an oh as Mai quickly taps her signature into the tablet. She stands from the rickety chair and walks back over to return it to the front, her heeled boots clacking against the wood floor as she does. 
Y/N has her gaze set low in her lap, eyes passing over her fresh manicure (her mother has a standing weekly appointment for her). She doesn't even notice that someone's standing over her — more so, towering over her — until the figure clears his throat, her head snapping up to address them. Assuming she's done something wrong (what it is, she isn't sure), she goes to apologize immediately, but the long haired man in front of her cuts her off.
"You have an appointment?" 
Instantly, she flounders. Her mouth drops open as she stumbles over an answer: "I— um, no, I'm not— no, no appointment."
"So you're a walk-in, then?"
"N-no," she shakes her head quickly, his all-black outfit forming a blur in front of her eyes, "No, I'm not getting a tattoo."
The man laughs. He actually laughs at her, and Y/N doesn't know whether she should be embarrassed or pleased that she's made this very attractive man smile.
"You're sitting in a tattoo shop. You know that, right?" the stranger crosses his heavily tattooed arms over his chest, and Y/N's eyes fly to the swirls of black ink covering his skin. They're everywhere; all different fonts and images and numbers and... she wonders if he even knows what they all mean or how many he has. 
"Yes," she finally manages out, folding her hands neatly in her lap. It's the default body language she goes to when she's nervous — when she was a teenager, her parents paid for her to go to social etiquette classes, and the instructor told her that this was a good way to show that she was in control of her actions, even if underneath her pastel pink turtleneck, her chest was covered in hives. "No, I'm not getting a tattoo. I'm here with someone getting one."
Thankfully (though Y/N would've preferred it happening about two minutes earlier), Mai walks back over to them, a grin taking over her features when she spots the man talking to her.
"Harry!" she greets excitedly, and Y/N watches as his eyes flicker over to her, flashing a tight smile in her direction.
"Ah. This is who you're here with." he — Harry, apparently — says to Y/N. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to that (if she's supposed to say anything), but any response is once again cut off. "Hey. You ready?"
She only now notices the gum wedged between his teeth, his jaw moving in a hypnotizing way. His tone appears to be far more clipped with Mai, but Y/N is fast to chalk it up to some fluke. Maybe the other employees mentioned something to Harry and they thought she was in the wrong place or something. That would make sense, she thinks.
"Yeah, all good. I'll see you in a bit, Y/N," Mai nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder, focusing her attention to Harry, "So listen, I'm going to a show in midtown tonight, I was thinking maybe after we finish up here we can—"
"Are you coming back with us?" Harry's eyes fall back onto Y/N, and it's only then that she realizes he's talking to her again.
"Uh... am I allowed to?"
He smirks. Y/N's chest feels like it may concave in simply from the sight.
"I own this place, so yeah, you're allowed to."
Mai's tapping her foot impatiently now, her hip popped out slightly with her arms crossed over her chest. "My appointment started a few minutes ago, Harry—"
"Okay," he says curtly, turning on his heel to face her, "Go in the back and get ready then. You know where my station is."
Both Mai's and Y/N's jaws drop at that, his snappy tone clearly not one to fight back on. Surprisingly, Mai does just that, turning around and walking back to where Harry has his things set up. 
"You coming, then? Y/N, right?" 
The teasing smirk is still painted over his features, as if he finds humor in outwardly rejecting Mai's advances. Y/N doesn't know why her heart beats a little bit faster at that, warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body as he continues gazing down at her.
"Y-yeah," she answers, grabbing her purse and standing up. "If it's not too big of a deal."
"Course not. C'mon, you can follow me."
. . .
Mai's tattoo comes out beautiful.
However, Y/N can hardly focus on the artistry and apparent talent because she's far too busy staring at Harry, who also looks beautiful while he works.
It's distracting, embarrassingly so, that she barely even registers when he's finished wrapping her new tattoo in some sort of clear wrap, sending her back up to pay. Quickly, Y/N scrambles to grab her things, realizing that she's once again left alone with Harry.
"What, running away so soon?" He asks as he cleans up his work station, spinning around to face her in his chair. He has that smirk on his face again — the one that simultaneously intimidates her and makes her entire body burst into flames — and anxiety begins to eat away at her, nervous of saying the wrong thing.
"I just— you're done. So I was gonna go."
"How do you know Mai?" 
It bothers her somewhat that he ignores her, but being the subject of his intense glint, she shifts her stance from foot to foot, shrugging her shoulders.
"We're in the same grad program. We've had a few classes together." she answers obediently, clutching the strap of her purse closer to her shoulder. 
"Mm," he hums, tossing some paper towels in the trash, "You sure you didn't want any tattoos today?"
Y/N's face erupts into a hot flush for the thousandth time today and she instantly begins to shake her head. "No. No, thank you, I mean. My parents would kill me."
"Your parents?" Harry asks, a slightly stupefied expression on his face. "You're in grad school. Surely you don't make decisions on your appearance based off of them."
He punctuates his sentence by giving her a once-over and she feels nervous under his gaze. She's never particularly felt good about her appearance. She's always just felt... neutral. She grew up with a mother who was constantly dieting, imparting weight loss tips on her every chance she got. When Y/N hit puberty, her father made comments about how grateful he was to finally see her drop the "baby weight". Even now, her mother critiqued her, making comments about how important it was to maintain a good figure; that she'd never find someone to spend her life with if she didn't take care of her looks.
So, all in all, it was safe to say that tattoos were extremely off the table for Y/N. 
"It's complicated," she finally replies vaguely. She knows that most people in their mid-20s aren't as deep under the thumb of their parents as she is, but she wasn't lying when she said this — the circumstances weren't as black and white as she wished they were.
However, there was something she'd always been curious about, and she had seen the piercing rates out in the front of the shop.
"But, um— do you guys do piercings?" she follows up before Harry has a chance to question her parents any further. 
"We do," he replies slowly, "Well, yeah, I do. Why, are you thinking about getting something pierced?"
She swears his eyes quickly glance to her chest, but just as quickly as she notices it, they're focused back on her face. She clears her throat, willing herself to have an ounce of self-confidence. 
"I was wondering if I could get my ears pierced."
Harry quirks an eyebrow and stands from his chair. Her heart rate speeds up tenfold when he walks over to her, his hand reaching outward. 
"May I?" he asks, pausing before he makes any movements. She nods, hoping he misses the way her throat bobs in nervousness. Gently, he pushes some of her hair behind her ear, taking a look at the lobe. He does it to the other one and she wonders if he can sense that she's holding her breath. 
"Hm, you really don't have them pierced," he mumbles lowly, eyes flitting back to her face. "Yeah, we could do that if you'd like. You sure daddy won't get too pissed?"
He says it with a simper though she's not entirely sure why; she thinks if he understood the dynamic between her and her parents, he'd be more concerned than teasing. Nevertheless, she shakes her head. 
"Like you said," she says softly, blinking as they stare back at one another, "I shouldn't make decisions on my appearance based on what they want."
His smirk breaks into a grin, and for the first time, Y/N feels like she's doing something right.
. . .
Y/N didn't think she would be this nervous to get her first piercing, but between the gorgeous man invading her space with a needle and the fact that Mai definitely won't want to be her friend anymore, she's feeling a little tense.
Before getting situated in the chair, Y/N said that she needed to tell Mai she'd be a bit longer, but Harry waved her off and told her he'd take care of it. Apparently, that just meant peeking his head out from his work station and yelling out to Mai that Y/N was busy and wouldn't be driving her home. (Y/N thinks she heard Mai practically stomp out of the shop.)
So now, she's spending her Saturday the last way she thought she would: With her eyes squeezed shot, anxiety making her heart thump far too fast in her chest, with a long-haired tattoo artist hunched over her body. He's so close that she can smell the woody fragrance of his cologne, and she has to resist breathing it in as she inhales deeply in an effort to calm her heart rate.
"Alright, you ready?" Harry asks lowly, his tone a groveled murmur that sends tingles down her spine. She nods, feeling particularly speechless from his closeness and her nerves. "'kay, I'm gonna count to three. Take a deep breath."
Y/N imagines he looks especially gorgeous right now, but she's too scared to open her eyes and see the needle he's about to puncture her skin with. Instead, she simply nods her head again, mentally preparing herself for the countdown. 
"Breathe, dove," he says calmly. Her stomach jumps at the pet name but does as he says. "Good. Okay... 1, 2, 3."
She jumps from the bite of pain that stings her earlobe, instantly wedging her bottom lip between her teeth as he shushes her. 
"It's alright, that was it," he murmurs, though she can still feel him at her side, carefully wiggling the earring into the newly formed hole. "Y/N? You okay?"
She blinks her teary eyes open and opens her mouth, willing her throat to push out a yes. Instead, Harry's face goes blurry as the images in front of her get hazy. In a panic, she tries to stand, the ringing in her ears sending loud alarms to her brain. She thinks she hears Harry tell her to sit down, his strong arms taking a hold of her own — but that's when everything goes dark. 
. . .
Harry's known this girl for all of two hours, and he's never felt panic ravish his body the way it did when she passed out a few minutes ago. 
Thankfully, she comes to less than two minutes later (he counted), but he remains by her side the entire time, gently stroking her hair back. As a professional tattoo artist and piercer, he's of course had people faint under the needle, but it's never happened from just a standard ear piercing. 
He supposes he maybe should've prepared himself for this. The sweet girl who accompanied Mai didn't look like she belonged at St. Mark's Social Club, but the moment his eyes zeroed in on her, he felt pulled to her. From the pastel pink top that stretched over her chest to the white ribbon tied in her hair, she was the opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to — and yet, all he wanted was to tuck her under his arm, pull her into his chest, and spend the rest of his life protecting her.
Harry tells himself he's being stupid; some lovesick nerd that just needs to get his cock touched, but as he watches her slowly nurse a cup of water, warmth returning to her complexion, every doubt is thrown out the window. 
"I'm so sorry," Y/N pouts, lifting a hand to run through her hair, "I'm... I feel so stupid, I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Why are you apologizing?" he asks through furrowed brows. "It's not your fault. People pass out all the time here, you have nothing to be sorry about."
"Y-yeah, but this is annoying... you probably have another appointment coming up and—"
"I don't."
"Yeah, but—"
"Y/N?"
"What?"
"Stop it."
She huffs, but the apologies stop after that. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, he watches to make sure she finishes her water. He can tell she's still feeling embarrassed and it bothers him that she thinks of herself as something to feel sorry about.
"Y'know, kinda looked like some kind of badass Sleeping Beauty while you were passed out," Harry says with a smirk, making her eyes widen, "Pretty cute, if you ask me."
Y/N's face warms and he chuckles, deciding that making this girl blush is his new favorite past time. 
"You're being silly." she mumbles, finishing off the water with a final swig. He shakes his head and takes the empty cup from her hand, tossing it in the garbage can behind her. 
"Would never lie to you, dove. We're going on what, three hours of knowing each other? I wouldn't even dream of it."
"Harry," she whines and it makes him immediately grin, especially as she pushes her bottom lip out in a slight pout, "Shush, stop it."
"Think I should just call you princess from now on, hm? Such a pretty face coming in here, think I got lucky having you pass out on me."
He laughs loudly when her lips part, her jaw slack from the compliment. She doesn't have a comeback for that one, but he assumed as much. He turns to face the cabinets behind him and grabs a paper towel and a pen, quickly scrawling out his number on it before handing it to her.
"This is my number. I'm not gonna do your second piercing today 'cos that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I want you to text me when you wanna come in and get it done," he explains, "I only work here on the weekend, but I'll come by any day you're free, princess."
She shuffles her feet before nodding her head, stuffing the paper towel in her bag. "O-okay. That sounds good."
"Good," Harry breathes, reaching out to for her hand to help her up, "Do you need a ride home?"
"No!" her eyes dart away from his face, blinking quickly as she focuses on the dark green walls. "Um, no, thank you. You've done enough for me today. I appreciate it, Harry."
"Sure," he says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, "Okay, well... get home safe for me, alright?"
"I will." she nods and punctuates her sentence with a harsh swallow. "Can I... is it okay if I text you when I get home?" 
A gentle smile wiggles its way onto Harry's face, warmth filling his body once again. 
"You took the words right out of my mouth, princess."
. . .
To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)
hi, im home!! im so sorry again for what happened but thank you sm for making sure i was okay. hope it wasn't too inconvenient! 
Y/N's never texted a boy she has a crush on (well, except for Jason Saunders in the 8th grade, but her dad found out within the hour and made her delete his number as he watched). She thinks she must still be lightheaded from fainting because there's no way she can seriously have a crush on someone she barely knows, but nonetheless, she pushes herself to message him to at least thank him for everything he did for her. 
She sighs as she throws her phone in her purse and climbs out of her Range Rover. Locking the doors, she crosses her fingers as she walks up the stairs and to the elevator of the luxury garage, pressing the penthouse button on the panel. She hopes her parents are still out — if they're home, she'll be on the receiving end of their badgering for the rest of the evening, and she still wants to work on a paper she has due later next week.
When the sleek elevator doors open, she's met with silence — the only telltale sign that she's alone, with the exception of her parents' private chef and maid. Relief floods her body as she steps out and into the apartment, toeing her shoes off in the entryway and taking quiet steps to her bedroom. 
She's exhausted from the day, flopping down on her bed with a sigh. Mindlessly, she feels for her phone in her bag, pulling it out to scroll through Instagram before she commits to doing work for the rest of the night. Instead, she's met with not one, but two texts from Harry.
Remember what I said about apologizing, princess?
Glad you made it home safely. Don't forget to text me about your second piercing — just name the day and I'm there. xx
She wants to let out a squeal, even if there's a large part of her brain that's constantly reminding her to limit her excitement. He's probably just being polite, she says to herself. 
Still, it doesn't stop her from replying a mere moment later, promising to restrain her apologies and message him when she's ready to get her other ear pierced. 
. . .
"Where were you yesterday?" 
Y/N blinks at her father as she sets down the spatula, shifting her attention from the buckwheat pancakes she's currently cooking. 
"Studying on campus," she replies easily, even if she had to coach herself all night to lie. She's never one to fib, let alone to her parents — she's always felt some type of fear when it comes to her father, but she knows he never would have approved if she gave him some vague answer about taking a friend to an appointment. 
He lets out a noncommittal humph. "You know there's no reason for you to be getting a masters degree when you'll just work at the company when you graduate."
Her stomach tightens. It's a frequent area of contention between she and her parents — their dream for her has always been to work at their jewelry company as soon as she graduated college, but she somehow managed to convince them to entertain her wish to go to graduate school for an English degree. They told her she could do it as long as she starts at their office as soon as graduation comes around.
She hasn't quite yet figured out how she's getting out of that one. If she even can.
"I know, father," Y/N forces out, redirecting her attention to flipping the pancakes on the pan. "It's just important that I get good grades."
"I can't imagine it's very difficult. You speak the language."
She bites her tongue. Her parents have never understood her love for books, always scolding her for having her head in the clouds from a young age. If she's being honest, books have served as a way for her to escape, always wishing she could be the girl getting whisked away by her romantic interest. 
Things always worked out in her books. Potentially having a happy ending like the ones she reads about is the only thing that keeps her going sometimes. 
Her mother, looking pristine as always even at 9 in the morning, enters the kitchen just as Y/N's sitting down to her eat. Turning stiffly, her eyes narrow at her daughter. 
"Those better not be full fat, Y/N." she says, jabbing her pointer finger at her plate. 
"They're not." Y/N says softly.
In response, she simply hums. "I don't understand why you don't just have Freya make you food. She's there for a reason."
Y/N quickly stuffs a bite of pancake into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly chews. She's never felt comfortable requesting their chef make her anything to eat when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. 
"Don't shrug. It's not ladylike," she scolds, Y/N's posture immediately straightening, "We have a lunch meeting with the Franklin family today. If you're available, you should come. You need to start learning the business."
"I have to work on a paper," the lie rolls off her tongue, knowing full well that she nearly finished it last night, "Finals are coming up. School is getting very busy."
"You know, Y/N, you're lucky we grant you all this freedom." her mother spits, the high heels of her Louboutin shoes clacking against the marbled flooring. "One day, you're not going to have this much of a choice in how you spend your time."
Despite only eating half a pancake, Y/N no longer feels hungry. Instead, she just nods her head and rolls her lips into her mouth. 
"You're right. Thank you for everything you do for me." 
She clears her dishes and goes back to her bedroom before her parents have a chance to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
. . .
Y/N spends the better part of Sunday crying in her bedroom. 
She's so exhausted of this cycle. Her parents work so hard to tear her down all the time, never once taking into account what her dreams and aspirations are. She feels like she can't do anything right, as if nothing she'll do will ever please them. 
In her fit of anger and sadness, she decides she needs to leave Harry behind. He's just a pipe dream, a tiny little sliver of what her life could be if she had less restrictive parents. That night, when she's laying awake in bed, she decides that in the morning, she'll take the fresh piercing out and throw the earring away, delete his number, apologize to Mai, and pretend like this weekend never even happened.
That is the plan, anyway.
Until she wakes up to her alarm at 8 am and she has an unopened text from him, and her heart beats in a way that she's never truly felt before. She doesn't think she's ever smiled this wide after just waking up, the mere appearance of his name on her screen sending waves of hope and happiness throughout her body. 
From: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)
How's the piercing holding up? 
After getting home on Saturday, he texted her a series of care instructions for the piercing, instructing her to clean it twice a day, twist the earring, and let him know if anything felt off. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt particularly giddy when he told her what to do. 
To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)
good!! no pain or anything and ive been doing what you told me to :)
She has a class at 10 this morning and she knows she should follow her typical routine of a shower, breakfast, and getting ready, but instead, she just lays back in the fluffy tufts of her bedding, smiling to herself as she waits for Harry to text back. A minute or so later, her phone vibrates.
Good girl.
Think you'll come in for your second anytime soon?
Her stomach twists in a delicious way but she's not sure why. There's nothing inherently sexual about what he's messaged her, but it has her craving more, a steady heartbeat forming somewhere deep in her core. 
Her eyes read over his question and she bites her lip. She knows that less than 10 hours ago, she was planning to forget Harry, but the feeling he gives her is addictive. She doesn't want to stay away — so she won't.
yeah, if you don't mind doing it :)) maybe today? 
In reality, she doesn't want to go under the needle again so soon, but she's craving to see him. He did say he'd come in any day for her.
Harry: I'd love to. What time are you free?
Y/N: i have classes from 10 to 1 today.. would 1:30 work? i can come by on my way home from campus
Harry: How about I meet you at your last class and we walk to the shop together?
Y/N swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. Her parents have never allowed her to hang out with a guy outside of anyone they approved of — over the years, they've attempted setting her up with other men of their same financial and social stature, but Y/N was never interested. As a result, they all grew bored of her by the second date, and her parents would yell at her for not being appealing enough. 
She doesn't know if Harry will be bothered by the same thing, but she wants — no, she needs — to find out.
Y/N: okay:) 
Harry: Great. Can't wait to see you. x
. . .
Harry knows he's pushing it.
This girl may as well have wealthy virgin tattooed across her forehead, but he just can't get himself to stay away. It doesn't seem like she wants him to either, which just makes it harder. And as he's waiting for her outside of her lecture hall on a campus he's never even step foot on, he realizes that they're from very, very different universes. 
That doesn't really bother him. He can see the obvious differences — he wears all black, has over 70 tattoos (most of which were impulsive or practice while he was apprenticing), and gives people tattoos and piercings for a living. Y/N is smart and soft; an English major in graduate school, lives with her parents, and drives a car that costs more than his yearly rent. 
He's not blind. Although, if he was blind to pretty, innocent girls, he probably could stop walking around with a permanent boner from thinking about how gorgeous she'd look in his bed.
The only thing that can tear him from his thoughts is the sight of her. He watches as she walks through the doors of the building, a slight pep in her step when she notices him, waving her hand with a smile. He licks his lips absently, willing the arousal pooling deep in his stomach to go away. 
"Hi," she greets as she approaches him, "How're you?"
"I'm good." he answers, trying his best not to let his eyes wander over her outfit, "How was class?"
"'s okay. Kind of boring. Almost fell asleep once or twice."
"Yeah?" Harry chuckles as they begin to walk towards the nearest campus exit. "Gotta stay awake in those smarty pants classes of yours, princess."
He already knows she's blushing before he turns his head to see the familiar flush flower over her skin. He points to the bag over her shoulder, pausing his steps. "Lemme carry that for you."
"Oh— no, you don't have to, I don't want to be annoying—"
"Why would that be annoying?" he asks with a quirked brow. She swallows, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."
"N-no, it wouldn't," she shakes her head and he nods, keeping his arm stretched out. She pushes the strap down her shoulder and hands the bag to him. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Harry."
"What d'you have in here, a ton of bricks?" he asks teasingly as he slips the pink tote over his own shoulder. 
"No! I have to bring books to campus every day so we can discuss certain passages and stuff. I guess I've been doing it for so long I didn't notice how heavy it is."
"It's very heavy, Y/N," Harry says, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "No wonder you're falling asleep in class, you're basically doing an upper body workout on your way there."
"It's not that big a deal," she replies nonchalantly. "It's just— it's what my professors want, so."
He continues grumbling, annoyed that anyone would ask this girl to shuttle all this weight to campus every day. 
"Can you start parking closer to your lecture halls, then? I don't wanna find out you dislocated your shoulder one day."
She shakes her head. "I don't drive to campus."
"Oh, is parking that bad?"
Y/N begins to fidget, wringing her hands out in front of her as they walk. Harry glances at her from his peripherals, soaking in the nervousness written all over her face. 
"No... my parents don't let me drive to campus, that's all."
He hums, attempting to stay unbiased, even if everything he's learned about her so-called parents has only made anger rise in his chest. 
"Do they have a lot of limits on things you can and can't do?" 
"Kind of. I don't know."
"Is... is that something that bothers you?"
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. He shifts his body to face her. 
"I've never really told anyone about how they are, but... well, they take care of me. They always have. They just have a very clear vision of what they want for me."
"Right," Harry nods, "Just because they care for you or pay for certain things doesn't mean they're good, though. I'm not saying they aren't— I just don't want you to confuse the two."
"I guess."
He decides to leave it at that, mainly because he can she's growing uncomfortable, but also because they're approaching the shop. He pushes the door open and holds it for Y/N, who sheepishly walks in, Harry close behind. 
He doesn't acknowledge anyone as she follows him to his station, but she supposes it's not out of the ordinary for him to do these things since he's the owner. Once they're safely sheltered by the walls of his space, Y/N lets out a breath, sitting down in the chair she was in on Saturday.
After setting her bag down, he washes his hands at the sink. A long-haired guy pops his head in, grinning when he sees Y/N. 
"Hey, H," he greets, "Didn't know you'd be here today."
Harry's tone is gruffer towards the man, even though he seems friendly. "Yeah. What's up?"
"I need a favor. I have an appointment that looks like it's gonna take a little longer than anticipated — last minute changes and all that to the design, but Jude is coming in to pickup at 2. You mind dealing with him?"
He glares at the man before assuming what Y/N is starting to call his signature pose — arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning back against some surface in his station (today, it's the tattoo bed).
"None of the other idiots can do it? Kinda busy."
"It's your off day, figured you could handle him," he shrugs, "Unless you'd like to introduce me—"
"Shut up." Harry replies, clenching his jaw. A spark zips up Y/N's body, though she's not sure why he seems to take offense to the man's words. "Yeah, I'll deal with it. What does he want?"
"Just some edibles and a few grams of bud. Nothing crazy."
Again, Y/N doesn't miss the way Harry shoots a glare at him, who simply raises his hands in mock defense. As if speaking through some sort of secret language, he backs out of the room, his Adidas sneakers sounding crisply against the wooden floors as he walks away.
"Sorry," Harry mumbles.
"Oh. It's okay."
He turns back around to look at Y/N, who somehow looks even smaller in the chair since they arrived.
"You have no idea what that was about, do you?"
She shrugs, though it's clear that Harry's right. She doesn't often like showcasing her naive nature, like it's some sort of party trick for people to laugh at. It makes her feel sad, a reminder of the "normal" years she could have had if not for her parents.
He sighs and lifts a hand to run through his messy hair. "A few of us sell weed on the side here. It's not really a big deal, but we just do it for some extra cash on the side. I would've rather told you on my own time, though."
Y/N's palms find her thighs, plucking at the hem of her skirt as she swallows, digesting the information. Weed? Her parents had always taught her that all drugs were bad. In their minds, weed was just as bad as heroin, but when Y/N read about states legalizing the former, she didn't quite understand how that made sense. 
"I hope that doesn't make you think any differently of me," he continues. "I'm sorry."
She keeps her eyes set in her lap, "Is weed... bad?"
She's expecting him to laugh at her but instead, when she looks up, she's met with a small, adoring smile on his lips. His eyes twinkle just a bit as he shakes his head.
"No, it's not bad, dove. What do you know about it?"
"Nothing, really. I know it's legal in some places but my parents always told me to stay away from any drugs."
"I think a lot of parents do that," Harry replies with a nod, "But it can actually be really helpful for people. Mentally, physically. And others just like it, they enjoy the feeling of being high."
She swallows before biting her lip. "Do you... do you like it?"
"I do." he says. "Is that okay?"
She thinks he could tell her he's a serial killer and she would be okay with it.
"Yeah. 's okay."
His grin widens. "Alright. Lemme get you settled with this other piercing. I'll have to step out to sell to Jude at 2, but after that, do you wanna grab something to eat?"
She nods so fast she feels like a bobblehead. A chuckle — the warmest, most melodic thing Y/N thinks she's ever heard — sounds from his mouth.
"Just don't pass out again on me, Sleeping Beauty."
. . .
Y/N takes her second piercing much better than her first. 
(And by that, she means she only teared up a little bit, and no fainting occurred.) 
She's actually more nervous about the whole weed... thing. She feels torn. There's a half of her that feels intimidated by it; the part that still has a foot stuck in her parents' world, she supposes, where they taught her to never even look at people like Harry. The other half of her is intrigued to see what happens. Fascinated by him, maybe, and the way she feels when she's around him, and she doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.
"Harry!" 
Someone calls his name from the main room as he's cleaning up and he peeks his head out. 
"Yeah?"
"Jude's here!"
He looks a lot less flighty about it than she assumes he would. Instead, he simply walks back into his station and unlocks a bottom cabinet to reveal a safe inside. 
"Know you're watching, princess," he says, turning his head to flash a toothy smirk in her direction. She looks away, blinking nervously. "Don't reveal any of my grand weed secrets to anyone, hm?"
"I'm not," she huffs, making him chuckle, "I'm just... curious."
Harry hums, pulling contents out from the safe. When he's done, he doesn't even bother concealing any of the weed he's just taken out, instead just rising to his feet. 
"I'll be right back. We can talk about the curiosity in a second."
Y/N's not snappy enough to come up with a response so she simply watches him walk away. She's only seen drug deals go down in movies and TV shows, where they're dramatic and part of the mob and guns are a necessity. She doesn't think this is one of those drug deals, but who is she to assume?
Surprisingly, Harry returns less than two minutes later with a small wad of cash in his hand. He pockets it, smiling at her when he sees she's still sitting there, the same perplexed look on her face. 
"Steal any of my bud while I was gone?"
"Harry!" 
He cackles and shakes his head. "Alright, dovie, c'mere."
Hesitantly, she stands, shuffling over to where Harry is back to kneeling on the floor. He looks up at her with an expectant expression, a wordless command to do the same. She does.
"Okay. You said you were curious?"
She nods.
"I've always found that the best solution to curiosity is knowledge. This doesn't mean you have to do anything, but it's good to know about things that may intimidate you," he explains. "So, weed can be found in a few different forms. I only sell flower, which are these little buds," he pulls out a container, showing her the small green nuggets. "And edibles, which is just candy or chocolate, stuff like that, with different levels of potency." 
"Oh." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a small wrinkle forming between them. "That's it?"
He chuckles, "Mhm. That's it."
"And what does it do?"
"Like how does it make me feel?"
She nods.
"It's different for everyone and strains — like, the types of weed — will affect people differently, too. For me, it just makes me a little more relaxed and giggly, more touchy and less in my head. It's nice."
"That does sound nice." she says softly. He hums as he pushes the container back into the safe, locking it back up in the cabinet. "Do you think I would like it?"
It's a question that kind of blurts out without thinking about it. When he turns to look at her, eyes serious and thoughtful, she feels small; the way everyone her age or older has always made her feel. She swallows harshly, immediately regretting it.
"I don't know the answer to that, but if you ever want to try, you can tell me. I'll make sure you have a safe experience."
It's not the answer she's expecting, but instead maybe the one that only exists in her wildest dreams. She looks down to hide her blush and he smiles to himself, ducking down to catch her eyes. 
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a blushy little thing."
Her jaw snaps closed, wiggling uncomfortably at his blatant call out. Her mother always told her that her emotions were easy to read — she said it made her weak, though. 
"I like it," Harry quickly amends, throat bobbing, "I like it a lot." 
She thinks she notices his eyes zip to her lips, but just as quickly as they dart down, they're back up to her eyes. She swallows when she realizes they've somehow gotten closer, the distance slowly closing between them in millimeters. She doesn't know who's moving in — if it's him or her or both — but suddenly, she's looking up and his face is hovering over hers, blinking in silent permission. When she doesn't grant it because she's too nervous to speak, his tongue peeks out, licking over his raspberry lips. 
"Is this okay?" He asks, minty breath ghosting over her mouth. "Can I do this?"
She nods, because she thinks any noise that would come out of her mouth would be just that — a sad excuse of a squeal. Her heart is pulsing in her ears, her hands trembling over her thighs, and then it happens — he presses his lips to hers, so gently it's almost like they aren't even there. The last time Y/N kissed someone, it was in ninth grade in the locker room after school, and she doubts it even qualified as a real kiss. This is different, though. This is Harry. 
He feels the nervousness radiating off of her so he breaks away, despite the already addictive taste of her mouth. He's gone too quickly and it makes Y/N's heart rate quicken even faster. 
"Need you to relax, princess." He says with his forehead pressed against hers. "Just follow my lead, okay? Promise it's not hard."
Embarrassed, she nods again, willing him to close the gap for a second time. This time, his lips are quick to move against hers, and it initially takes her by surprise. But she does what he told her to, mimicking his movements in tentative paces. With each passing moment, he's kissing her more and more breathless, and she lifts a shaking hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It's a bold move for her and she swears she feels his signature smirk form into their kiss. 
Time doesn't feel like it moves much when Y/N's mouth is on Harry's, but she knows it is because she needs a break to breathe. With panting lungs, she pulls away, watching as Harry's eyes flicker open. His lips are pinker somehow and swollen with spit. The image makes her core throb. 
"Y'okay?" He asks. Y/N notices his pupils are darkened and he shifts from his seat on the floor, adjusting his lower half. 
"Y-yeah," she nods, "Needed to, um, breathe."
He chuckles. "Yeah? Get a little dizzy there?"
"A little bit." 
"Cute," he murmurs, lifting his thumb to swipe a bit of spit away from her bottom lip. Instinctively, her mouth opens, and she watches as his eyes flicker to hers. Through labored breath, he slowly moves his thumb along her plushy lip, resisting the urge to sink it inside. She's not sure why something as small as this is stirring her insides, but her eyes widen when he breaks away, pushing the finger into his own mouth. 
"Oh." She breathes out. 
"I don't wanna scare you," Harry whispers, "But I'm completely fucked when it comes to you, dove. If you don't want this... want me, I need you to go now." 
She swallows. Slowly, she rises to her knees and inches towards him, closing the small gap that formed between their bodies. She's hesitant in her movements but pushes herself to straddle him, gently sinking her ass down into his lap. His eyes widen. 
"I want this. I want you." She says. 
"Good," Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against hers for the third time that afternoon, "Good." 
. . .
Y/N thinks she could go pro at lying to her parents.
A month ago, she had to spend hours preparing the perfect fib, coaching herself on how to articulate it just casually enough so it didn't seem fabricated. These days, they come out like nothing. 
I'll be home late, I have a group project to work on in the library.
I'm going to a tutoring session for one of my classes, I probably won't be home until dinnertime.
I'm spending some extra time on campus today so I can get a head start on a paper.
In all truthfulness, school couldn't be the furthest thing on her mind right now. Harry is.
Ever since that day they kissed at his shop, they haven't been able to spend more than a day apart. Mostly, they follow the same routine from that very afternoon, where he'll pick her up from her last class of the day and they'll walk back to St. Mark's together. Sometimes, Harry will have deals to do so they sit and talk in the downtime. Other days, he'll have actual work to tend to, accounting and whatever it is he does as a business owner, so she'll do some homework, enjoying the silent companionship. Y/N never stays too late into the evening, not wanting to push her luck with her parents, but Harry always sends her off with a kiss that leaves her breathless, making her promise to text him when she gets home.
And the kissing... yeah. 
Y/N likes to think she's gotten better at it from all the practicing they've been doing. She still gets a bit flustered, but it's one of her favorite things to do with him. The second they shuffle into his station, Harry closes the door so they're finally in private, and it's like a switch is turned on. Within seconds, they're wrapped up in each others arms, mouths wet and hot against one another. She's discovered that her favorite place to be is seated in his lap while his tongue explores her mouth, breathy pants parting her lips. He loves to squeeze her ass over the pleats of her skirt, knowing that it riles her up in the smallest forms of contact — tiny rolls of her hips, nails being pressed into his skin, a slight pull of his hair. 
She doesn't think things could get much better with Harry until today, during their typical makeout-and-grinding session, when he ducks beneath her jaw, pressing messy kisses to her soft skin. It's then that the words leave his lips. 
"Can I feel you under here, dove?"
His hand is fisting the hem of her skirt and the low tone of his voice makes lightning zip through her body. She doesn't know how to reply — she wants to say yes, but her mouth is dry from immediate anxiety. 
"N-no one's ever touched me there," she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry hums, unbothered, kissing her jaw once more before backing away slightly.
"Don't have to do if you don't want to. We can just keep doing what we've been doing if you'd prefer." he replies nonchalantly, his lips swollen. She swallows nervously, perturbed by his frank nature.
"I— I do want you to feel me," Y/N mumbles. It's not a lie — yes, she's a virgin who knows next to nothing about her body besides its reproductive process, but sometimes, when she goes home in the evening, she thinks about what it would like to keep going. She's seen movies and TV shows, but those have only made her even more curious. Sometimes the guy takes it slow and makes it romantic, other times it's painful and uncomfortable. She can only hope Harry would take care of her.
"Where, princess?"
Well, she can only hope that Harry would take care of her in his typical teasing ways.
Huffing, she shakes her head. "I can't say that, H."
"Can't touch you if I don't know where you want it," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly. "Wanna hear you say it. Ask me."
"Harry," she whines. "Please? You know... where."
"Here?" he asks, pressing his the warmth of his hand to her thigh. "This where you want me?"
"No."
"Hmm, how about here?" he moves his hand up just a bit further, inching underneath the fabric of her mini skirt to the crease of her thigh. Again, she shakes her head. 
"Dunno where you want me then, dove. Thought you were my good girl."
"H-higher." she mumbles, attempting to push her body closer so he gets the hint.
"Higher?" he echoes with a smirk, "Here?"
This time, his fingertips have found the waistband of her panties. It immediately feels wrong, but not because of who's touching her, but rather the act of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the voice in her head. Slowly, in an act of false confidence, she bunches the fabric of her skirt up at her hips, watching as Harry's eyes widen. They instantly dart down to the small wet patch between her thighs and it makes him groan softly.
"Jesus," he mutters, forgetting about his little game. He gently thumbs at her clit through the material and she jumps. Using his other hand to squeeze her hip, he tries to keep her steady, mumbling out an apology. "Am I allowed to see this cute little pussy?"
She clenches at his question, surprising herself with how turned on she feels from just a few words. 
"Yes," she nods, "Please."
"'Please'? Aren't you just the sweetest wet dream, hm?" Harry murmurs. He pushes the width of the fabric to the side, making Y/N shiver from the sudden exposure and being under his gaze. "Are you always this polite or is this just for me, princess?"
She licks over her lips when he parts her pussy with his ring and middle fingers. He hums, dipping a fingertip into her crease and lifting it to his mouth. He looks at her expectantly and she realizes she hasn't answered him yet.
"J-just for you." 
"Pretty, swollen pussy just begging for attention. Do you always get this needy when we kiss?" 
She nods, her eyelashes fluttering as he runs the tip of his pointer finger through her wetness. 
A poor excuse for an answer sounds through her lips, the affirmative tone being the only thing that gives him an idea of what she said. He snickers boyishly, Y/N's jaw dropping when they both feel her pussy pulsate. 
"I think my girl is a bit naughtier than I thought," he breathes, moving his finger back up to her clit to form slow, small circles. She gasps from the intensity, a new sensation of overwhelming pleasure that she's never received before. "Is that the truth, dovie? Do you wanna be my naughty girl instead of my polite one? Tell me." 
"Harry," she mewls, arching her back to press deeper into his touch, "P-please— feels really good."
"Yeah?" he smirks, a mocking tone to his voice that makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut. "Yeah, does it feel really good?"
"You're— you're being mean—"
"Oh, I don't think so, dove. I think I'm letting you use my fingers to get off, petting this pretty little clit until you cum all over my hand. I don't think that's mean, do you?"
He stops stroking at her and her eyes snap open. She can feel how warm her face has gotten under his touch, quiet puffs of breath ghosting over his lips as his eyes twinkle, knowing what he's done.
"Why'd you stop?" she asks in a small voice.
"You said I was being mean," Harry replies with a shrug, "If I were really mean, I'd leave you here high and dry. Do you want to learn about edging today, Y/N?"
She shakes her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He hums and lifts his hand to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to swirl around the fingers that were just caressing her. She watches him with wide eyes. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life.
"Do you like when I tease you?" he asks lowly. They both know the answer — her body couldn't lie even if she wanted to, and Harry noticed it the second he felt her pussy clench against nothing at his mocking tone.
"Y-yes." she whispers.
"Dirty girl," he murmurs, moving both his hands down to her hips to give them a squeeze. He tightens his hold on her and gently moves her up to the tattoo bed, helping her lay down. "We have all the time in the world to learn about what makes your pussy wet, but right now, I wanna make her cum. Can I do that, dovie?"
Y/N nods, allowing him to adjust her body however he wants. He smiles at how pliant she is for him, sticking to her good girl demeanor. 
"Need you to tell me if I go too far or if something doesn't feel right, okay?" he reminds her as he fits himself between her thighs, "At any point, you say stop and we do, no questions asked." 
"Yeah. Okay."
It's apparent to her that Harry is experienced, because it takes no time for him to wiggle his fingers back to their initial position. His thumb is applying the smallest bit of pressure to her clit, still sensitive from when he was playing with it before, but now he's circling over her hole with one of his larger fingers. She gasps at the slight intrusion. 
"Have you ever put your finger in here, princess?" 
She shakes her head. "N-no."
"Do you want me to?" he asks, though he can already feel the way her hole is all but sucking him in, "It won't hurt. Promise."
She trusts him — maybe foolishly, because she knows her parents would disown her if they knew the position she was in right now — but she pushes the thought to the back of her head, instead simply answering his question with a nod. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slowly pushes in, a gasp instantly falling from her plushy lips. Her immediate reaction is discomfort, but as he starts to stroke at something towards the back of her walls, it feels... good. Overwhelmingly good. So good that a loud moan frees itself from deep in her chest and he jumps up, gently pressing his other hand over her mouth. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.
"Know I'm making your little hole feel so good, but there's other people here. I wanna keep those moans just for myself, okay?" 
Her eyes roll back as he continues to pump his finger inside of her, the assault on the magic little spot never stopping. She can sense the smirk that's likely formed on his face but she can't find it in her to care because she's never, ever felt this good before. She whimpers against his palm and he groans quietly, the sight of his gorgeous girl writhing beneath him nearly too much to handle. He wills his own raging hard-on away, instead focusing on Y/N's need to cum before he can even consider getting himself off. 
"H-harry," she sounds beautiful mewling his name even when it's muffled by his hand, "I feel— I'm—"
"I know, dove, I know," he coos, quickening the loops around her clit. She's growing increasingly sensitive from his touch as her hole throbs around his finger. "Let go for me. Let go for daddy, lemme see that pretty pussy soak me."
Realistically, he would've preferred introducing her to the whole daddy kink thing on different terms, but he's instantly reminded of how insanely lucky he is when those are the words that push her over the edge. His jaw drops as he watches her squirm underneath his hands, riding out her orgasm and squeezing him in the most delicious way. 
"Fuck, you're so fuckin' beautiful," he groans, unable to stop himself from lightly grinding his covered cock against her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her core and his desperation to feel her grows by the second. 
When her orgasm finally subsides, she's panting heavily and he swallows, palming himself over his pants. 
"Is this okay?" he asks breathily. Y/N raises up onto her elbows, her eyes growing a bit wide when she sees what he's doing. Despite how exhausted she is, she still nods, the curiosity of what he looks like when he comes steadily building inside her. "'s not gonna take me long — that was the prettiest thing I've ever fuckin' see. Jesus."
She blushes but he doesn't notice as he pulls his cock out from under his pants and boxers. He spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself, his gaze glued to the swollen mess between her legs. 
In college, Y/N watched porn once. It was with her roommate and her friends, who found out she was a virgin and asked if she knew anything about sex. She didn't, so they had some sort of debauched education night for her, which was really just an excuse to giggle and make fun of the way guys moan in porn. It made her feel weird, watching this couple have sex on camera, but what she does remember is the girl encouraging him to cum. Once she started begging, it pushed him to her orgasm, and Y/N was pretty impressed with that.
So, she swallows her self-conscious nature and gazes up at Harry as the slick pumps over his length grow clumsy. She can see the pre-cum bubbling at the tip and the way he gathers it with each stroke, using it to further lubricate himself. 
"Want you to cum for me," she breathes out, the words sounding foreign when they leave her lungs, "Please. Wanna see it."
Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of his head and she assumes she's done something right by the way he quickly squeezes them shut, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. 
"Please cum for me, daddy."
Much like it was for her, the use of his honorific is what finally pushes him to his finish. His jaw goes slack and his chest vibrates with muffled groans as spurts of cum rain down on Y/N's mound, eliciting a small gasp as the feeling. It's messy, but she's enamored by how gorgeous Harry looks when he comes: swollen lips, clenched abs, flushed cheeks, his large hand fisted around his length. 
"Shit," he mutters, reaching up with his clean hand to push his curls out of his face, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"
She nods far too quickly for her own good. She'd be lying if she says she isn't slightly overwhelmed, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She never wants to forget how good he made her feel, while the knowledge that she's the one that turned him on like that is a boost to her confidence. 
"Lemme clean you up, hold on," he says breathily, reaching over to grab one of the folded hand towels in the cabinet. Gently, he runs the fabric over her sensitive bottom half, shushing her softly. He does the same thing for himself and then helps her shimmy her panties back up. "You sure you feel alright, dove? You're being quiet." 
"'m okay. Just tired." She replies truthfully, sitting up to lean back against the wall. 
"Yeah? One little orgasm and you're ready for a nap?" 
She giggles and buries her head into his shoulder,  her limbs feeling particularly jelly-like. He wraps a loose arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair. 
"That's alright. I'm happy to take care of you however you need, princess." 
. . .
"When were you planning on telling me the bookstore is hiring?"
Harry's eyes widen at Y/N's unusually bold demeanor. He glances down at her, following her gaze to where she's staring at the small bookstore across the street. Sure enough, there's a help wanted sign in the window. 
"I didn't know you were looking for a job, dove," he replies with a shrug. In all honesty, he's never really paid attention to the business across the street from his own. 
"Well... I'm not really, but I do want to start making my own money." she says softly, biting her lip. 
He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah? You wanna go see if you can fill out an application?"
Despite her nerves, she still nods her head. Harry smiles and intertwines their fingers together, guiding her across the way to the bookstore. He holds the door open for her and she swallows anxiously, stepping inside the quaint store. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, he gently ushers her to the cashier. 
"Hi," she says shakily, "I saw you're hiring people and I was wondering if I could apply." 
The woman at the front grins, immediately launching into a conversation with Y/N about how excited she is that someone's interested in working for them. As she pulls a paper application out from a drawer on the side, Harry smoothes his hand over her back, rubbing it gently. He's so proud of her, his heart feels like it could burst. 
It's only when she's finishing up filling out her information that someone says her name. They both turn, Y/N's eyebrows instantly furrowing in confusion. 
"Y/N," the woman hisses, and Harry glances down to watch his girl's face crumble, "What are you doing?"
"Y/N... who is this?" Harry asks, his possessive instincts immediately taking over. 
She swallows harshly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. 
"Um... this is my mom."
read part two here!
3K notes · View notes
sarcasticmothdraws · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
dizzybizz · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
mingling memeing for today 🥰
2K notes · View notes
psykopaths · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
rainydaycafe · 2 years
Text
Hi, yes, I’d like to motorboat Harry Styles?
Yes, that’s Harold Edward Styles and just one motorboat on those voluptuous titties.
0 notes
eternvlsound · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
The Los Angeles Times California Home Book - 1982
ig: the_80s_interior
1K notes · View notes
Text
focus*
warnings: smut, spitting, choking, squirting, throat fucking, dumbification, dirty talk, degradation, slight daddy kink, facial(ish)
pairing: dad’s best friend harry x reader
summary: in which yn keeps eyeing harry’s arms and he puts them to good use
masterlist | taglist
Tumblr media
~
yn’s bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she sits on the couch next to harry, trying to keep her dirty thoughts at bay. but it’s so hard when he’s sat beside her, shirtless at that, as he types away on his computer, sending angry emails to his employees. yes it’s his day off, but it just seems that there is always something that comes up when he finally relaxes.
it’s not the emails that are turning her on, not at all. it’s the fact that with each message he types with annoyed grunts and mumbles falling from his lips, she can see his biceps just flexing with each movement. she can’t even focus on her phone that’s playing some sort of video on its screen because her eyes just keep flitting over to where he sits.
her thighs are practically sewn together as her mind races, from thoughts of those biceps next to her head as he pounds deep into her in missionary, to them wrapped around her neck.
oh.
that second thought is something she should’ve thought of a long time ago. she should’ve thought of him bending her over the kitchen table with his arm wrapped around her neck, her feet barely touching the floor as he wrecks her. that thought forces a moan from her lips before she can stop it, causing harry to stop in his tracks and turn to look at her.
his first thought is that she’s hurt somehow sitting next to him, and so he takes a moment to let his eyes trail over her body. one clean sweep and then he’s meeting her eyes with raised eyebrows as he recognizes that body language. the glued thighs, the blown pupils, and not to mention the swollen lips from all the chewing. she’s been caught.
closing his laptop, he places it on the coffee table before angling his body to be able to maintain eye contact comfortably. the silence is deafening, and she wants to crawl into a hole. “are you going to tell me what that was about or do i need to force it out of you?” he’s playing no games. she just stares at him in silence as she debates whether or not she should tell him. “and tell the truth. i don’t have room in my day for lies and wasted time,” he makes sure to tell her.
she chooses her words carefully. “your arms,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact with him and looking down to her lap. he huffs in annoyance before forcefully grabbing her jaw and making her look at him.
“what about them? don’t be stupid, i don’t have the time for the games,” he warns her before he’s letting her go and awaiting her answer.
“i was thinking about them…,” she pauses, forcing herself to say the words. “i was thinking about them wrapped around my neck when we’re in bed,” she finally finishes. the term ‘in bed’ would’ve been innocent in any other context, but he knows exactly what she means. she means she wants his arms around her neck while he fucks her.
she hears harry’s breath hitch before the room falls into silence, the lack of sound making her regret her decision to be honest with him. she could just about cry when he stands up from the couch, looking down at her lap. a few seconds later, she hears the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and from her peripheral vision she can see the shorts harry was wearing there. trailing her eyes up his legs, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she sees harry just stood there with his cock in his hand, hard and already leaking.
“get on your fucking knees,” his words are firm and leave no room for argument and she’s immediately scrambling off the couch and onto her knees in front of him. resting her weight on her heels, she sits there and looks up at him as she patiently awaits further instruction.
“open your mouth,” he demands, and she instantly does so, her mouth already practically salivating at the thought of him. harry just stroked himself a couple times before grabbing the back of her head and forcing her open mouth onto his cock. he immediately sets a brutal pace and begins fucking her throat with no care of the mess she’s making of them with her saliva. he continues for a minute or so, keeping a close eye on her to make sure she’s okay. with each passing second, he sees her move further and further away, until her eyes start to roll back into her head.
“fuck. that’s it, i see. all it took was my cock down your throat and now you can’t even focus. dumb little baby can’t even hold her head up, poor thing,” he firmly slaps her cheek to get her to keep her eyes on him and it works, but only for a moment, before her head is lulling right back onto his thick thigh. over the sounds of her choking on him, harry just sighs in irritation before quickly pulling his cock from her mouth and ignoring her whine of protest.
he’s then quickly grabbing her by her arms and pulling her up before pulling her sleep shorts down and off her body before pushing her onto the couch, pressing her face into the cushions. climbing up onto the couch behind her, he takes a moment to admire her and how wet she already is, her folds glistening with her arousal. he wants a closer look, though, taking his hands and spreading her ass cheeks even wider and looking at her already throbbing hole.
he can’t resist leaning down to swipe his tongue through her sodden folds, suckling on her clit for a moment before pulling away when she starts to grind against his face. she whines in frustration as he just watches her throb a bit, and then he’s letting her ass go before straightening up and taking his cock in his fist once more. crawling forward just a bit, he lines himself up with her and runs his leaking tip through her folds just to tease her a bit more before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it land on her pussy, trailing down.
when he’s satisfied with the sight, he begins pressing himself into her hole as slowly as possible, listening to her mewls of pleasure as he stretches her tight hole. as soon as he’s deeply seated within her, he lets her adjust for a few seconds before pulling out until his tip is resting at her entrance and pushing back in just as deep as before. “is this what you wanted? for me to stop my work and fuck you like a whore? do you like daddy’s arm around your neck?” he grunts, letting her wails of pleasure as well as the sounds of their skin slapping spur him on.
she can only yell out a chorus of broken agreements, her nails clawing at the leather couch cushions and tears beginning to fall from her eyes at the pleasure. he’s fucking her at what seems like an unfathomable speed to her, each drag of his thick cock along her walls pushing her closer and closer to the edge. she can’t even give him a warning due to her wordless babbles, but he understands.
he doesn’t only understand, he decides to make it even better. stopping for just a moment, he ignores the sound of annoyance that comes from her and sits up to rest on his heels before pulling her up as well. wrapping his arm back around her throat, he begins to fuck into her from below before reaching around her body with his free hand and honing in on her clit.
she hadn’t thought it could get any better, but as soon as he started fucking her so deeply in tandem with the tight circles around her clit, she felt like she could explode. and that she did. after no more than ten seconds more of the intense pleasure she’s experiencing, her body tenses and a yell of relief falls from her lips as her orgasm takes over. as it wracks her body, though, harry switches from just a few fingers on her clit to his whole hand, rubbing the sensitive bud quickly. that sends her into a whole other realm, and she feels her body relax before she can register what’s going on and then they both hear and feel her orgasm drench the leather cushions below them.
this whole time, harry has not stopped fucking her, and soon her head is lulling to the side as she lets him take her even more. “fuck, i’m close,” he chokes, still feeling the aftermath of her orgasm as she flutters around him, milking him for all he’s worth. “where do you want it?” he manages to ask, staving off his orgasm just long enough for her answer. his question basically brings her back to life and she’s pushing her self up on her hands as she answers.
“please, want it in my mouth,” she whines, and he’s immediately pulling his throbbing cock from her and standing up beside the couch before forcing her onto her knees.
“open,” he breathes, chest heaving as he looks down at her. she immediately obliges, sticking her tongue out of her mouth and tipping her head back just slightly, and then harry is quickly jerking his cock in front of her face. “don’t you dare fucking move, fucking shit!” he gasps as his orgasm finally takes over, nearly knocking the wind out of his chest from the intensity. warm spurts shoot from his tip and onto her awaiting tongue and he’s just groaning above her as he empties himself for her.
she takes everything he has to offer, watching his biceps and abs contract as he keeps stroking himself a over her. by the time he’s finished, he’d tongue is coated and some of his cum is even dribbling down her chin. reaching forward, he grabs her neck and keeps her still before gathering some of his saliva and spitting right into her open mouth, humming in satisfaction when she keeps it there without him having to tell her. he lets go and just watches her for a moment, loving to see her struggle to keep her tongue out. “swallow,” he commands and she’s instantly closing her mouth and letting the mixture of cum and spit go down her throat.
~
1K notes · View notes
wazzupmrstark · 2 years
Text
HARRY???
9 notes · View notes